


A Little White Lie

by CherieoftheDragons (SignCherie), SignCherie



Series: Autumn Hawke, canon universe [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/pseuds/CherieoftheDragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/pseuds/SignCherie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>F!Hawke is awkward with men. To get her to act naturally around Anders, Isabela and Bethany devise a little white lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You’ve got it bad,” said Bethany.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hawke replied. Unfortunately, she blushed scarlet, giving away her lie.

“I’m not blind, Sister. That mage, the Grey Warden. I saw the way you looked at him.”

Autumn Hawke turned even redder, and Bethany found herself amused that her big sister, the woman who could face ogres without flinching, could be so undone by one man. “You mean the incredibly good-looking, selfless healer with the free clinic? The one who devotes himself to helping penniless refugees? Yeah, I noticed him. So what?”

“So...what are you going to do?”

“I’ll tell you what. I’m going to help him free his friend from the templars. Then I’m going to get those maps. And  _then_ we’re going into the Deep Roads on that expedition, and that will be the end of it.”

Bethany frowned. “I don’t know why you’re so scared of putting yourself out there. He’s probably lonely.”

“Yes,” Hawke answered dryly. “I’m sure he has a terrible problem meeting women. What with all those desperate, grateful refugees whose lives he’s saved, and all.”

“Sister,” said Bethany, “I don’t want to interfere in your life. But if you don’t make a move, how will you even know what might have been?”

Hawke hesitated. “What do you think I should say?”

Bethany smiled. “Just let him know you like him. That’s all.”

\-----

Nothing went as planned.

In spite of herself, Hawke was looking forward to seeing the healer again. Maybe Bethany was right. If she didn’t try, she wouldn’t ever know if she had a chance, right? Not that handsomely scruffy mages had any reason to be interested in beat-up, battle-scarred warriors. But maybe...it was a risk she should take.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him waiting outside the Chantry. There was something...lost about him. Hawke wondered if maybe Bethany was right and Anders really was lonely.

But when she approached, his face took on a determined edge, and Hawke slipped into business mode as well.

From there, everything fell to pieces.

It didn’t matter that she didn’t know the man. When Karl turned to face them, and she saw the Tranquil brand blazing on his forehead, it was like a blow to the face. So many nightmares of that brand had haunted her dreams. Nightmares where Bethany’s face bore that mark, her eyes staring emptily. Hawke would scream and cling to Bethany’s robes, knowing that it was her own fault--that she had failed to protect her baby sister. She awoke from those nightmares gasping and sweating, clutching the sheets. 

She had approached Karl expecting...who knows what. A warm smile, a friendly greeting. Instead, she was met with the hollow stare from her nightmares. It was nearly a physical shock, and she didn’t even know Karl. 

No, it really couldn’t have gone worse.

\-----

When it was all over, and they stood once again in the Darktown clinic, Hawke felt ill. She couldn’t even imagine how it must feel to be the instrument of death for someone you dearly loved. It was the kind of thing she tried very hard to avoid thinking of.

She looked at Anders. He looked exhausted and miserable, his face creased with sorrow. Hawke had to fight the ache to just reach out and hold him.

 _Great_  idea.

Instead, she asked him about his glowy display of magic.

His brow furrowed in dismay. “I...this is hard to explain,” he said. “When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice...” 

Hawke listened to his explanation in growing horror as she realized what had happened to him--how his compassion and selflessness toward a friend had come back to hurt him. It was exactly the kind of thing she could imagine Bethany doing. She found herself filled with the desire to protect him--to stand between him and the world.

As if to confirm her fears, Bethany said, “You tried to help a friend. Surely no harm can come of that.”

“I wish I still had your innocence,” Anders answered. “There was too much hatred in me. Justice thought he could overcome that. But my anger--when I see Templars now, things that have always outraged me, but I could never do anything about--he comes out. And he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a force of Vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy.”

He looked so...broken. Hawke remembered what Bethany said, that maybe he was lonely. Maybe she should just suck it up. Let him know she was...interested.

What kinds of things did women say in this situation?

He was looking at her expectantly.

She put on what she hoped was a seductive smile. “So, that explains your whole...sexy, tortured look,” she said, trying her best to sound alluring.

There was an awkward pause. Bethany put her face in her hands.

Hawke realized suddenly just exactly how badly timed her proclamation was. The man had just been forced to kill a dear friend and was confessing his most horrible regrets, and here she was, throwing herself at him. Anders was looking at her with his eyebrows raised.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often,” Anders said lightly. “I had not thought to find a woman who would look past what I just said.”

Hawke wanted to say something, to apologize, but he was going on, all business. “My maps are yours. As am I, if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me, I will be waiting here.”

She got out of there as quickly as she could.

\-----

“I don’t think he was put off,” Bethany said. “Honestly, Sister. You should give it another shot.”

“Sure. Why not? And while I’m at it, I might as well stab myself in the eye. Since I’m going to be a glutton for punishment and all.”

“He likes you,” Bethany insisted. “Okay, yes, you put your foot in your mouth. But it didn’t throw him off at all. Don’t you see? That makes him perfect for you. You’d be crazy to let this one go.”

Hawke sighed. “As it happens, Beth, I did try again.”

Bethany paused, apprehensive. “How...did that go?”

“Terribly. I barely got the words out of my mouth before he was telling me to back off.” Hawke shrugged nonchalantly, trying to show she didn’t care. “He said he didn’t want to see me get my heart broken.”

“What? Why? What did you  _say_  to him?”

“I...told him Justice was lucky to have gotten such a nice body.”

“Oh, Sister.” Bethany rubbed her eyes.

“Well, how was I supposed to know what to say? You said to let him know I was interested. That’s what I did, right?”

“I didn’t mean for you to be quite so forward about it. But I can’t believe he shot you down. It’s obvious he’s crazy about you. He looks at you like--like he’s drowning, and you’re his life raft.”

“He does not. And it doesn’t matter. Let’s face it, Sister,” Hawke said. “I’m just not cut out for the whole romance thing. If I’m not killed by raiders or something, I’ll probably die alone, a miserable, old lady. With cats. A miserable, old, cat lady. Best I get used to the idea now.”

\-----

A few weeks passed. Anders became an indispensable member of Hawke’s party, though she could barely meet his eyes, let alone hold a conversation with him. In her quest for coin to fund her expedition, she found herself making even more allies, including the sexy pirate, Isabela.


	2. Chapter 2

Bethany was beginning to think her sister was beyond all hope.

They were in the Hanged Man, the whole group of them. Merrill, Aveline, and Varric sat at a nearby table, Varric gesturing emphatically as he spun some tale or other, while Merrill watched him with wide eyes, and Aveline gave him disbelieving looks. In the corner, Fenris appeared to be looking for an escape from the pretty pirate wench who had perched herself on the table in front of him.

And then, there were Hawke and Anders.

They sat on the other side of the table from Bethany. Anders was attempting to teach Hawke the game of diamondback, leaning in close to her as he explained the different combinations of cards. His smile, as he gazed at her, was slightly wistful. Hawke, for her part, was staring awkwardly at her cards and turning interesting shades of red.

“Is she always this bad?”

Bethany turned to see Isabela slide into the seat next to her. A quick glance around the room showed her that Fenris had joined the others at their table.

Isabela flashed Bethany a grin. “I wouldn’t have thought Hawke to be the shy type,” she continued.

Nervously, Bethany glanced back at her sister, but she and Anders were in a world of their own. They didn’t even seem to have noticed Isabela’s arrival.

“She’s not shy,” Bethany said. “Not in the least. She’ll stand up to anyone, no concern for what they might think. Always ready with a smart comment.”

Isabela raised an eyebrow and gestured toward Hawke, who had just dropped her cards and was scrambling to pick them up. “So what’s all this?”

Bethany sighed. “Maker only knows.”

Isabela downed the last of her drink. “I could use another,” she said, “and it looks like you could, too. Come to the bar and tell me about it.”

With a nod, Bethany stood. “Sister, I’ll be just over here if you need me.”

Hawke was fumbling to get her cards back in order, with Anders’s help. Neither seemed to hear her.

“Sister?”

“I’m just taking Bethany off to deflower her in numerous and creative ways, then,” Isabela said loudly. “I promise I’ll bring her back mostly unharmed. Unless she asks me not to, that is.”

Bethany could feel herself blushing. “Isabela!”

Hawke blinked and looked up. “Did you say something?” she asked.

“Nothing at all, love.” Isabela grabbed Bethany’s hand. “Come on.”

A few minutes later they had seats at the bar and fresh drinks in hand.

“All right, love. Spill. What’s the deal with your gorgeous sister? Why aren’t she and Anders shagging like rabbits already?”

Bethany sighed. “You’re asking me, but I honestly don’t get it. I’ve never seen a situation Autumn couldn’t handle -- except for men. For some reason, every time she meets a man she’s attracted to, she clams up and can’t open her mouth. And when she tries to get past that and actually make a move, she ends up sounding like a brothel worker.”

Isabela laughed. “Oh, this I’ve got to hear,” she said. “What does she say?”

“Well,” said Bethany, “there was a farmer’s son when we were teenagers in Lothering. He was a couple of years older than her and didn’t know either of us existed. But she had such a crush on him. One day, she got up all her nerve, walked out to his farm where he was working, and asked him if he was looking for a good place to sow his seed.”

Isabela choked on her drink.

“I know,” Bethany said. “The worst part was, she was completely oblivious to the double meaning. Well, until _after_ she said it.”

“I don’t mean to belittle her horror,” said Isabela, “but that actually sounds like a line most men would fall over themselves for. Especially from a woman who looks like Hawke.”

“You’re...not wrong. He took her up on it. Had his way with her in the barn, then told all his friends. The next day, she ran up to him in town, all smiles. He laughed at her. They all laughed at her. Then one of his friends asked her if he could ‘sow his seed,’ too.”

“Andraste’s tits, that’s awful.” Isabela frowned at Bethany. “I was looking for a good laugh, but this is tragic.”

“It was, a bit. Autumn went home and cried for an hour. Then she went back out and broke his nose.”

“That’s the Hawke we all know and love. Pity she didn’t break something a little more dear to him.”

“She accomplished her goal, anyway. No one in Lothering ever talked about the...incident, again.” Bethany took a drink. “Then, there was that friend of Carver’s. Braden, his name was. He was Autumn’s age, and he had the biggest crush her. She was completely normal around him until I told her that he fancied her. I thought I was doing her a favor, but she started acting so strangely. Hanging around while Braden and Carver were training, but not saying a word. Just standing there like some kind of statue. Carver and Braden both planned to go into the army, you see, and they had these wooden practice swords they used to train with. One day, Sister blurts out, ‘Braden, I sure would like to see your real sword.’”

Isabela laughed. “Surely that wasn’t so bad? I can’t imagine this Braden didn’t like _that_.”

“Did I mention it was right in front of his mother?”

“Ooh, you’re right. That _is_ bad.”

“Carver wanted to kill her. Braden stopped training with him after that. Although, as it happens, Braden ended up in the Templars, so I can’t be too sorry it didn’t work out.”

“So your confident, fearless, silver-tongued sister loses all sense of propriety around men?”

“That’s not even it. It’s like she loses her ability to reason. I can’t explain it properly. It’s not just the things she says, it’s the way she says it. Like she’s afraid if she doesn’t go completely overboard the man will never know that she’s flirting. And if she’s not making bad attempts at flirting, she loses the capability of speech.”

Both women looked back at the table, where Hawke was dealing out two hands of cards and still not looking at the man beside her. Anders had leaned over and was speaking encouragingly in her ear.

Bethany sighed. “If only there was a way to get her to act naturally around men.”

Isabela drained her glass and set it on the counter with a thunk. “Kitten,” she said, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

\-----

“This staff looks really nice,” said Hawke. “Bethany, what do you think?”

Hawke, Bethany, and Isabela were in the Lowtown market, stocking up on supplies. Hawke was appraising a rather handsome staff. She ran a finger along the mahogany wood, admiring its smooth finish. She’d noticed that the staff Anders had been using was a bit worn down. He could probably use a replacement.

“It’s a good staff,” Bethany agreed.

“Do you think it’s nicer than the staff Anders has?”

Isabela chuckled. “Do you really want me to answer that?"

Hawke felt her ears getting warm. “Isabela. Can’t you ever get your mind out of the gutter?”

“But it’s so much fun there, kitten.”

Hawke deliberately turned her attention back to the merchant’s display. It was a good staff. She could picture Anders using it, his body twisting and lunging as he shot fire or lightning at his foes. Not that she spent a lot of time watching Anders’s body. She was just...looking out for him. Making sure enemies didn't overwhem him.

“You have to admit,” Isabela said, perching herself on the merchant’s table, “it is a pity.”

Hawke sighed and opened her purse, fumbling for her coins. “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s a pity?”

“Anders, of course.” She sighed dramatically. “Why do all the good ones go for other men?”

Hawke’s head snapped up. “Why do--what?”

“Didn’t you know?” Isabela smiled slyly. “Anders plays for the other team.”

“Anders--”

“--is romantically interested in men, yes.” Isabela paused. “Didn’t he tell you about Karl?”

Hawke felt lightheaded.

“I thought they were friends,” Hawke said. “He told me Karl was his friend.”

The pirate shrugged. “If you have a loose definition of the word ‘friend,’ perhaps.”

It couldn’t be true. Surely Anders would have told her something like that. Even Bethany hadn’t noticed; she wouldn’t have encouraged her toward Anders if she thought he might....

Hawke looked at Bethany, who shrugged apologetically.

Her heart turned to lead in her chest. She put her hands on the table, leaning on it for support. “I can’t believe it. Why wouldn’t he tell me? I thought...”

Isabela raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“...that he trusted me,” Hawke finished lamely.

Isabela hopped down from the table. “I’m sure he does, love. Maybe...it just hasn’t come up yet.”

There was absolutely no reason she should feel like this, Hawke told herself. No reason why her chest should feel tight or her breath come with difficulty. No reason her eyes should be stinging.

She wasn’t going to cry.

He was just a friend, after all. He’d told her she didn’t have a chance, that she would just end up getting hurt. She’d already come to terms with that.

So why did this news seem worse than another Blight?

“You’re probably right,” Hawke mumbled as she paid for the staff.

Behind her back and out of her hearing, Bethany whispered to Isabela, “She looks so miserable. Are you sure we did the right thing?”

“Of course, kitten,” Isabela whispered back with a grin. “You just watch and see.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hawke hesitated just outside Anders’s clinic. With one hand, she reached back and touched the new staff, which was strapped to her back next to her two-handed sword.

Maybe she should just come back another time.

No. That was stupid. She’d come all the way down here, and this wasn’t going to be any easier if she came back. No point in wasting the trek through Darktown.

She took a deep breath and went in.

Her eyes were drawn to Anders immediately, almost as if she’d known where he would be before she entered. He was bent over a patient, a young man. A rather handsome young man, Hawke noted with annoyance. Anders was holding his arm and pressing it gently, as if testing to see where it hurt. The young man flinched slightly and glanced up at Anders apologetically. Anders patted his hand and said something to him, flashing a rare half-smile at the patient.

Suddenly Hawke wanted to set the man on fire. If only she were a mage.

* * *

“It wasn’t a bad break,” Anders told his patient. “I’ve healed the bone, but you may have some tenderness. You should take it easy if possible. Don’t return to the mine, at least not right away.”

The young man shook his head. “I’ve got to, ser. My mother and sister won’t eat if I don’t work.”

“At least a few days,” Anders insisted. “That mine is too dangerous. Talk to Lirene. She may be able to help you out those few days.”

The man hesitated, then nodded. “Of course, ser.”

Anders knew he was being placated, that his patient had no intention of taking it easy, but there was nothing he could do. Deep in his soul, the part of him he associated with Justice rumbled at the inequity--Fereldans forced to work in unconscionable conditions just to avoid starvation--but this was something he saw every day, and there was only so much he could do to make it right. People’s choices remained their own, and he could not take away their free will. Nor would he wish to.

With a sigh, he rose from his patient, turned, and saw Hawke hovering in the doorway.

His heart started thumping in his chest, and the troubling thoughts that filled his mind melted away. She looked beautiful, as always. Even with her hair mussed, dressed in head-to-toe armor, there was something undeniably feminine about her. Maybe it was the curve of her lip, or the sparkle in her eye... 

He’d never met a woman like her. She was bold and outspoken, brave and challenging. She dealt with nobles and smugglers with equal assurance. 

Yet, somehow, she was different with him, and Anders wasn’t sure what that meant. She rarely met his eyes and hardly spoke except to answer his questions. She wasn’t rude--just distant. Had he offended her by rejecting her earlier advances?

Turning her down had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But he’d had to do it. He had nothing to offer her but instability and heartache. If he cared about her, he couldn’t subject her to that. She deserved so much better.

He was no longer sure she’d even been flirting with him, anyway. Maybe that was just her sense of humor. Maybe he’d put her off by assuming she was interested when she was just kidding around. 

Maker, wouldn’t that just make him the biggest fool in Thedas.

Hawke smiled and started towards him. Realizing he was just standing there, staring at her like an idiot, he raised a hand in greeting and went to meet her.

“Hawke,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today. I hope nothing is wrong?” Stupid, stupid. Now she would think he didn’t want to see her.

“No, everything is fine. I...wanted to give you something.” She reached for her back and removed a mahogany wood staff. As focused as he’d been on admiring her face, he hadn’t even noticed it there.

“You got me a staff?” Anders was shocked--and touched--that she’d thought of him.

She smiled. “Well, you’re no good to me without a decent weapon.”

Her tone encouraged him. She sounded light and unrestrained, and her smile was open. He found himself smiling back.

He took the staff, his hand brushing against hers and sending a little thrill through him. It was polished mahogany, carved in beautiful, intricate detail at the top. He could feel the energy in it when he touched it. Strong, healing energy.

“This is too much,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t have done this, Hawke. I know how much you need the money for your expedition.”

“I can make more money.”

She was dismissing it too easily. “Hawke. I understand what this expedition means for you. It’s your key to keeping your sister safe.”

Anders  _knew_  how important Bethany was to Hawke. He saw the protective way she watched her sister, the frightened look in her eyes whenever Bethany got injured, the fiercely determined set of her jaw whenever a templar’s gaze might linger on her. Bethany was the luckiest mage in Thedas as far as he was concerned.

“Nothing will happen to Bethany on my watch.” Hawke grinned. “Just take the staff. And maybe a ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

Something had definitely changed--and for the better. Anders couldn’t remember the last time Hawke had smiled so freely at him. If she ever had. 

“Thank you,” Anders said simply. “It means a lot.”

Hawke looked at the floor.

Inwardly, Anders panicked. What had he done wrong to break this sudden and unexpected camaraderie?

“Anders,” Hawke said, avoiding his eyes, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can. Is--is this about Justice?”

“No. I was wondering--is it true that Karl was your lover?”

Anders felt his heart sink into his shoes. “You know about that?”

He hadn’t been trying to keep it a secret. He was planning to tell her. But he’d been apprehensive. What if she took it badly that he’d been involved with men? He knew from experience that many women didn’t respond well to that kind of thing. 

It shouldn’t matter how she reacted. There was no future for them. But still... he just hadn’t been able to tell her yet.

“Isabela told me,” Hawke said.

Anders mentally cursed Isabela and her big mouth to the Void.

“Yes,” Anders said. “Yes, it’s true.”

Hawke bit her bottom lip. “Why didn’t you tell me? If I had known...”

“I’m sorry,” Anders said. “I wanted to tell you myself. It’s just--I was afraid--”

She shook her head and gave him a sad smile. “It’s okay, Anders. I don’t mind. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Really?” Anders examined her face, looking for some sign of what she was thinking. “You’re okay with it?”

“Of course I am. Don’t be silly. I just--” She stopped.

“Just...what?”

“I wish I’d known sooner. Maker, it’s hard enough to lose a friend like that. But a lover....” She took his hand, and a jolt of electricity went through him.

“Thank you,” Anders murmured. “We hadn’t been together for some time. But it means a lot to me to know you care. You’re a better friend than I deserve.”

For a moment they stood there, looking at each other. Then Hawke leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

Anders was stunned.

“I should go,” she said. “Before it gets dark. Mother worries, you know. But if you need anything, you just have to ask. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” Anders said again, still dazed.

Hawke flashed a smile at him, and then she was gone.

Anders raised his hand and touched it to his cheek.

* * *

Hawke replayed the conversation in her head as she walked home.

_I was wondering--is it true that Karl was your lover?_

_....Yes. Yes, it’s true._

_Why didn’t you tell me? If I had known..._

_I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you myself. It’s just--I was afraid--_

He was afraid that she would be humiliated at having thrown herself at a man who wasn’t interested in women. She understood.

She hoped she’d been gracious about it. He didn’t need to know that her heart was breaking. How silly, falling for a man who preferred other men. She felt like a complete fool.

Feet heavy, Hawke trudged up the steps to her uncle’s house and pushed open the door.  
  
Bethany was sitting at the desk with a book. She looked up when Hawke came in.

“You saw him? What did he say?”

Hawke smiled wryly. “It’s true.”

Bethany let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Sister. I shouldn’t have pushed you towards him.”

“It’s okay, Beth. You couldn’t have known.”

“Are you...how are you holding up?”

“I’m all right. It’s probably for the best. We were never going to happen anyway. Now...I can focus on being a good friend to him.”

“I know that won’t be a problem for you,” Bethany said. She stood up, pulling her sister into an embrace. “He  _does_  like you, you know. And he is lonely. I think a good friend is exactly what he needs.”

Hawke hugged Bethany back. “That’s good,” she said. “I know how to be a friend.”

Bethany smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I know.”


	4. Chapter 4

Bethany hated the blasted mountains.

She would never say anything, of course. What they were doing was important. Saemus Dumar’s life hung in the balance. And getting in the viscount’s good graces would give her mother a much better shot at reclaiming the family’s estate.

No, she wouldn’t complain, but Maker’s teeth, her feet were killing her. There was only so much uphill trudging a girl could take.

Hawke and Anders, for their part, didn’t even seem to notice. They were too absorbed in their conversation. Bethany had fallen too far behind to hear them anymore, but she could see the mischievous twinkle in her sister’s eye when she turned to look at the mage. Every so often, Autumn would put a hand on Anders’s arm or bump shoulders with him playfully. Now it was Anders who kept turning interesting shades of red.

Well, at least one good thing came out of this trek. It was almost worth it to watch her sister so at ease with a man.

Isabela sidled up next to Bethany. “I think they may have forgotten all about poor Saemus,” she said. “You and I had better keep an eye out. I think Anders and your dear sister might just trip right over him without even noticing.”

Bethany knew her sister was more capable than that, but she laughed anyway. “Who would have thought that all Autumn needed to become the perfect flirt was to believe she didn’t have a chance?” she mused.

“ _I_  would have, kitten. And I was right, too. I told you we did the right thing. Sometimes all it takes is a little white lie.” 

* * *

It was getting late, but Hawke kept the party pressing onwards down the coast. She didn’t know where exactly Saemus might be, but she knew that time was of the essence. A minute too late might mean the difference between finding him alive or finding him dead--either by the Qunari’s hand or the Winters’.

But when the sun began to dip very low in the sky, and her party was visibly sagging, Hawke knew she couldn’t put it off anymore. “We’d better make camp before we lose all the light,” she said with a sigh.

She was met with audible groans of relief. “About time.” Isabela threw herself down on a rock. “You’re such a slave driver.”

Hawke grinned at her. “And I’m not done yet. Get up, lazybones. We’ve got tents to set up.”

In the end, though, they agreed the tents would be unnecessary on such a clear, warm night and settled for building a campfire. Hawke had brought some provisions, and Bethany cooked a stew over the flames while the others staked out the area to make sure it was safe.

As the last of the sun’s rays began to disappear behind the horizon, they all sat down to eat. Anders took a seat very near Hawke.

Hawke had to admit she was happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time. Her feelings for Anders hadn’t lessened, but then, she didn’t expect them to. It didn’t really matter. She got to be with him all the time. He was kind and sweet, and he looked out for her. Hawke thought, all things considered, that wasn’t a bad deal.

She knew it wasn’t a good idea to think that way, that in the end it would just get her hurt, but she couldn’t help it. If Anders knew that she was secretly still lusting after him, she was sure he’d be horrified. Luckily, she didn’t intend for him to find out.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Anders peered over at her bowl. “Maker’s breath, woman. We’ve been tramping along the coast all day. How are you not starving?”

Hawke frowned. “I’ve got plenty. How much do you expect I can eat?”

“You’ve got to keep your strength up. It’s looking like another long day of walking tomorrow. If you collapse from sheer lack of energy, don’t expect me to heal you.”

“You’ll heal me. What do you think I keep you around for?” 

“For my rugged good looks, of course.”

“That, and apparently I need someone to mother me when my actual mother’s not around.” She glanced at Anders’s food. “ _Andraste’s flaming knickers_ , Anders. How much food are you  _eating_?”

Anders looked at his fare, then at Hawke. “What?” he said defensively.

“Is that a whole loaf of bread?”

“It...might be.”

“Where do you  _put_  it in that skinny body of yours?”

Anders’s cheeks were tinged with pink. “It’s a Grey Warden thing.”

“Of course it is.”

He was definitely blushing. How cute. “And how many Grey Wardens have you known?”

“You expect me to believe all Grey Wardens gorge themselves like this?”

He smirked. “Where do you think the fabled Grey Warden stamina comes from?”

The thought of Anders’s extraordinary stamina made Hawke a bit hot. She forced her mind back to the topic at hand before it could wander too far down that path. “I don’t know," she teased. "I saw you flagging earlier.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I kept up with you, oh great warrior.”

“You did at that,” Hawke allowed.

The corners of Anders’s eyes crinkled as he glanced sideways at her, a smile playing on his lips.

Hawke’s breath hitched. There was something indescribably suggestive in his gaze. She found herself grateful she was sitting down.

Anders tore off a chunk of bread and held it out to her. “Take it. I know you’re holding back to make sure the rest of us have enough.”

Embarrassed, Hawke took the bread from him. How did he always know what she was thinking? She’d been planning to get more after she’d seen everyone else had eaten. “I’m just watching my girlish figure,” she lied, giving him a pointed look. “Something you might want to think about yourself.”

Anders shook his head. “What am I going to do with you, Autumn?” he said softly.

He’d never called her by her first name before.

Hawke hid her grin by taking a bite of bread. Anders didn’t have to know how happy these little moments made her. It was enough that they did.

* * *

When the food was gone and the stars were out, Isabela stood up and stretched.

“Do you mind if I take first watch, then?” she said. “I’m a night owl. Won’t be able to fall asleep for hours yet.”

“That works for me. I’m beat.” Hawke rose from her seat and started removing her heavy plate.

It wasn’t as though she was stripping naked--she was wearing padding and undergarments beneath her armor, of course--but Isabela noticed with satisfaction that Anders couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. As for Hawke, bless her heart, she was completely oblivious.

Isabela couldn’t really blame him for staring. Hawke had the kind of curves that made you want to reach out and touch.

Hawke didn’t stop until she was dressed in nothing but a long, sleeveless undershirt. Then she smiled at Anders and touched his shoulder before climbing into her bedroll.

Isabela glanced at Bethany, who was looking mortified. “I give it a week,” Isabela murmured to her co-conspirator. “Tops.”

* * *

Anders could not sleep.

He would have liked to say it was because he was concerned for the young man they were trying to rescue, or because he was preoccupied with considerations for his clinic, or perhaps because he was plotting ways to improve the mage situation. There was no denying the truth, however. The only thing keeping him awake was the woman asleep in her bedroll just inches away from him.

He hadn’t realized it before, but he had never seen Hawke when she wasn’t covered by heavy armor. He knew she hadn’t meant to be seductive, that she was just getting ready to sleep, but watching that armor come off had been more alluring than any purposeful striptease.

He hadn’t known a woman could be so soft and hard at the same time. Her body was athletic; sinewy muscle a tantalizing contrast to smooth curves and unbridled femininity. He’d never touched a woman like her before. The women in the Circle were lovely, but not muscular, and the women outside the Circle... had not been like Hawke. He’d never taken a warrior for a lover.

Now she was there, right within his reach, and there was nothing stopping him from stretching out a hand and touching her. Only a blanket and the flimsy cotton of her shift stood between his fingers and her enticing skin. Would she protest, if he were to take her in his arms, drawing her exquisite body close, savoring the feel of her pressed against his chest? Or would she sigh, lips parting invitingly as he claimed them with all the built-up passion he’d been fighting for so long? Would her fingers tangle in his hair, or would they move lower, sliding underneath his clothing to touch his bare skin....

Anders groaned and turned away in frustration. This was shaping up to be the longest night of his life.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Isabela chuckle.


	5. Chapter 5

There was something sweetly appealing about Saemus Dumar.

Hawke found herself drawn to the strength of the young man’s convictions, his firm belief in a better way than the status quo. She wasn’t sure that she herself would choose the Qunari to look up to, but she admired him for his passion against the injustices the Qunari faced.

It was the same quality she admired so in Anders. The problem was, she couldn’t have Anders.

Not that Saemus Dumar was likely to be interested in a Lowtown thug like herself, but that didn’t stop her from considering the possibility. He was handsome, too. His black hair and green eyes were striking.

He was so young, though. Hawke knew he probably wasn’t much younger than her, but she often felt that experience and tragedy had aged her well beyond her years. Saemus was just taking his first steps out from under his father’s sheltering wings.

Hawke took a step and winced as pain lanced through the wound in her leg. The Winters’ attack had been fierce, droves of them attacking in waves, but it appeared to be over now. Anders was bent over Bethany at the moment, who had taken a nasty blow to the face. Hawke hated it when Bethany got hurt. She felt awful for bringing Beth along when she could be safe at home with their mother. But she trusted her sister at her side more than anyone else. They had trained together since they were children and knew each other’s moves like second nature. And when Bethany was with her, Hawke knew she wasn’t being dragged away by Templars.

Anders’s hands glowed blue with healing energy as he worked over Bethany’s injury.

No point in standing around. Using one hand to hold the wound closed and doing her best to mask the pain, Hawke began looting the Winters’ camp, her thoughts returning to her mangled love life.

The nice thing about knowing she didn’t have a shot with Anders was not having to worry about impressing him. She was free to be herself. The not-so-nice thing was that it didn’t make a difference. She just kept on falling harder for him. And while she might be happy now, it wouldn’t last. Eventually Anders would figure out how she felt, and then he would no longer want her around. Or he would meet a man and she would have to watch someone else make him happy.

It would probably be better all around if she moved on sooner rather than later. She just wasn’t sure how.

Maybe she should ask Anders what he thought about Saemus. He liked men--he could give an honest opinion. And bringing up the subject would let him know she wasn’t pining over him or anything. So she wouldn’t have to worry about scaring him away.

* * *

Anders approached Hawke quietly. She was kneeling down, fumbling with a chest. He could tell by the way she held herself that she was in pain.

“Maybe you should let Isabela do that,” Anders suggested.

Hawke turned around, bestowing a smile on him as radiant as the sun. “Sneaking up on me, are you? I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

“Keep both eyes on me,” Anders countered. “I’m incorrigible.” And then, because he knew she would want to know, he said, “Bethany’s injury wasn’t half as bad as it looked. Just a scratch, really.”

“A scratch that bled all over.”

“True, but head wounds tend to be bloody, and hers wasn’t very deep. I doubt she’ll even feel any soreness by tomorrow.”

“That’s good to hear,” Hawke said. “I guess that means I can tease her about taking the lesser of our injuries, then.” Without getting up, she moved armor and fabric to expose a large gash in her thigh. “Take a look at this?”

Anders knelt beside her and probed the wound gently with his fingers. It was much more serious than he’d expected, cutting deep into the muscle. Anders made an involuntary sound of distress low in his throat.

“This is bad,” he said, trying to keep his anger out of his voice. Anger at the Winters for hurting her, anger at her for not telling him right away. Anger at himself for not realizing it sooner. “The wound is deep. You shouldn’t have been walking around.”

“Really? It doesn’t feel too bad.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

She was covered in blood. Anders tried to ascertain how much of it was hers, but it was hopeless. There was blood everywhere. It had been a nasty battle.

Hawke shrugged. “It’s just my leg. It won’t kill me.”

“It could,” he all but growled. “People die from blood loss all the time. And even if it doesn’t, an injury like this could cripple you for life. There are arteries and tendons in your leg--”

“But I have a healer who can work miracles.”

Anders bit back a groan. “Not if I don’t know you’re hurt.”

With his fingers, he pressed the edges of the wound together, sending waves of healing energy into her body. She had aggravated the wound; he could sense it with his magic. He used his power to soothe the injury, welding tissue and skin back together.

He healed people all the time. Every day in his clinic. But there was something far more intimate about healing Hawke. His hands on her skin, the energy pulsing into her....

“Thank you,” Hawke whispered.

Anders looked up into her eyes. She was gazing at him intently, her eyes full of some unspoken emotion. Her expression made his whole body tingle.

“You’ll tell me next time,” he murmured. “Right away.”

“I promise.”

Anders didn’t want the moment to end. Without even meaning to, he found himself taking her hand. “Autumn,” he said.

But she pulled away. Suddenly all business, she jumped to her feet, testing out her newly healed leg.

“So,” she said conversationally, “what do you think of Saemus Dumar?”

Anders didn’t know what brought on the sudden change in topic, but he went along with it. “He seems to have made it through no worse for the wear.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. What do you  _think_  of him?”

Anders frowned.

“He’s pretty cute, isn’t he? He’s got nice eyes.”

Then he got it. He felt like he’d been slapped in the face.

“He...has nice eyes?”

“You didn’t notice? He’s not your type, then?”

“I...is he  _your_  type?”

Hawke chewed on her bottom lip. “I can’t decide.”

The  _Dumar_  boy? What in the Maker’s name could she see in him?

“He’s all wrong for you,” Anders practically choked. “You need someone who can take care of himself. You could never be happy with a man who had to hide behind bodyguards.”

Autumn Hawke and the viscount’s son? He couldn’t even picture it.

And then, probably because it was the last thing he wanted to do, he did picture it. The images rose unbidden to his mind. He saw all the things he wanted to do with Hawke, but with Saemus Dumar in his place. Saemus’s soft, babied hands running over the curves of Hawke’s body. Saemus’s fingers peeling open her clothing and slipping inside, Hawke’s head tilting back in pleasure. Saemus trailing kisses down Autumn’s neck as she moaned...

Anders’s hands balled up in fists.

“You need someone capable. Not a pampered noble who would be appalled at the things we have to do just to survive. Did you see how the battle unnerved him? He’s spent his life locked behind gilded doors. That can’t be what you’re looking for...is it?”

Hawke sighed. “No, you’re right,” she said. “That’s pretty much what I thought, too. I just...I get tired of being alone, you know?”

Anders knew. He knew that if he wasn’t what he was, neither of them would have to be alone. If he were a normal man, he could be the one to chase away her loneliness. He could hold her in his arms as they explored each other with hands and lips and tongues. He would make love to her all night long, slowly, tenderly, until she was trembling in his embrace and gasping his name. And afterwards, he would be the one to lay in her arms, limbs entangled, as she told him all her innermost secrets, every unknown dream and hidden fear. He would listen and stroke her hair and promise her he would always be there for her. 

But he was what he was: an apostate and a fool who had let a Fade spirit into his head. Justice was always with him, an inescapable presence in his mind, hard and unforgiving. Anders didn’t know how his story would end, but he knew whatever fate awaited him, it wouldn’t be happy.

He had doomed himself. He didn’t have to take Hawke down with him.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Hawke was saying. “It’s not like the viscount’s son is going to get romantic with a Ferelden refugee.”

For some reason, the idea of  _Saemus_  rejecting  _Hawke_  made him angrier than anything else. “He’d be a fool to refuse you,” Anders said. “You’re much too good for him. You’re beautiful and strong and...so, so kind....”

Hawke smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks,” she said. “I...guess I’ll get Isabela to take a look at this chest.” With that, she hurried away.

Hawke and Saemus Dumar.

Anders was a Grey Warden. He was used to nightmares. 

Now he would have one more.

\-----

When Saemus was returned safely to the viscount and both sisters were back in Lowtown, Hawke brought the idea up to Bethany.

“So...what did you think of the Dumar boy?”

“The viscount’s son?” Bethany considered. “He certainly was good looking, but I rather had the impression he was interested in men. What with him running away with a male Qunari and all.”

Horrified, Hawke put her head in her hands. “Maker, I’m  _terrible_  at this!”

Bethany laughed and put an arm around her. “Don’t worry, Sister. The right person will come along. For both of us.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Maker, please,_ thought Autumn, _not tonight_.

The Maker apparently did not hear her, because the hum of voices in the next room, which had been growing steadily in volume for the past ten minutes, now broke out into out-and-out yelling.

“...don’t know how you could gamble away everything we had! It’s not just about money. That estate was everything we had of our history! Our parents, our grandparents, our great-great-great-grandparents all lived in that house, raised their children there!”

“Don’t start pretending like that matters to you, Leandra! You left! Ran off to Fereldan with that bloody apostate to raise your brats. If family was so important, you wouldn’t have abandoned it!”

“You want to talk about family? You put my children into servitude! For a year! What do you know about family?”

Bethany’s voice, quieter than the others, drifted in, “Let it go, Mother. Please. It’s not worth fighting...”

“Better I left the lot of you to rot outside the city, then? That’s gratitude for you. I had to pull in favors just to get those opportunities for your useless kids!”

 _Just ignore them_ , Hawke thought, squeezing her eyes shut. _Just go to sleep._

“Pull in favors? My children took care of your debts to those smugglers!”

“And now they take up space, eat me out of house and home! If that estate meant so much to you, you bloody well should have stayed to look after it!”

And suddenly Hawke knew she couldn’t do it. Not one more night spent curled up in bed pretending she didn’t hear them, or pleading uselessly for them to calm down. Not one more night of them shrieking at each other until they had no voices left to shout with. Not one more night.

“My children contribute more to this household than you do!”

Hawke didn’t bother with armor. A pair of trousers, a tunic, her boots, and her sword strapped to her back. That was all she needed. With a bang, she pushed open the door to her room, stormed past her astonished mother and uncle, and slammed the front door behind her.

She stood in the cool night air of Lowtown, face upturned to the sky, and wondered what in the Void she would do now.

She could go to the Hanged Man. She knew Varric and Isabela would still be up. But she wasn’t sure she could muster up enough cheer to deal with them tonight.

There was really only one place she could think of.

* * *

It was later than usual when Anders closed his clinic that night. A gang fight in Lowtown had left a teenage boy near death, his body mutilated. He’d been carried in by his hysterical mother who pleaded through her tears for Anders to save her boy.

He was lucky the boy had been brought to him before he lost too much blood. Anders had been able to save his life...but the boy’s hand had been chopped off at the wrist, and Anders could not regrow limbs. He worried what would become of the boy now. It would be difficult to work, difficult to fight...would even his gang take him back if he could not be useful to them?

He wanted to berate the boy for joining a gang in the first place--and he had, half-heartedly--but he knew how things were. The gangs offered protection for poor Fereldan refugees with nowhere else to turn.

Anders sighed as he closed and locked the first of the two large doors to his clinic. First thing in the morning, he would go to see Lirene about the boy and his mother. See if there was anything she could do for them.

The mother had been exceptionally grateful. Anders remembered the adoring look in her eyes as she thanked him--and then the way her fingers shook as she reached for the buttons on her dress, offering to pay him with the only thing she had. He’d put his hand over hers, stopping her, telling her she owed him nothing. She’d grown even more worshipful after that, though that certainly had not been his intent.

He would leave the lanterns lit during the night, in case of emergency. Sometimes people would bang on the doors in the wee hours, needing help for some life-threatening injury. He always worried when he left to help Hawke, but he left the clinic in the hands of his trusted assistants, with a good supply of potions, injury kits, bandages--everything he could think of to help. So far, everything had been fine, and Maker willing, it would continue to be so.

As Anders started to shut the second door, a movement in the shadows caught his eye. Mentally preparing an offensive spell, he called out, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

Hawke stepped uncertainly out of the shadow.

Anders exhaled and let the spell on the tips of his fingers dissipate. “Hawke,” he said in relief. “What are you doing here?”

She had a lost expression on her face that Anders couldn’t remember ever seeing before. It caused him a measure of alarm.

“It...I...” She let out breath. “My mother and Gamlen were fighting. Screaming at each other. I just...I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought maybe...you wouldn’t mind if I came here.”

Anders was touched and honored that he was the first person she came to when she had nowhere to go. “Of course you can come here. You can always come to me.”

He held open the door, but Hawke just shifted uncomfortably. “I shouldn’t intrude on you. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s so late...”

Anders was exhausted, but the only thing he wanted right now was to be with Hawke. He hadn’t even realized how badly he wanted it until she turned up on his doorstep. “I’m still awake,” he said. “Please. Sit and talk with me awhile.”

Hawke lingered a moment, glancing back the way she’d come from, then came inside.

Anders locked the second door. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said quietly.

“I just left Bethany there to deal with them all by herself. Maker, what kind of sister am I?”

“An absolutely devoted one.”

“A coward who can’t even deal with her own family.”

“You’re human. We all need a break sometimes.”

Anders gestured to a cot, and they both sat. A part of Anders wished he had nicer accomodations to offer her--his clinic wasn’t exactly the most impressive bachelor pad--but he knew that was foolish. Hawke knew what he was and what he did. “Your mother and uncle fight often, then?”

“Every so often.” Hawke looked away. “Mother--well, she’s not really angry at Gamlen. I think--it’s Carver. She misses him so much. She just gets overwhelmed and she needs some way to let it all out. And Gamlen--well, he makes himself a convenient target.”

Anders noticed the break in her voice when she said her brother’s name. “You miss Carver, too, don’t you,” he said, and then felt like an idiot. Of _course_ she missed her brother.

Hawke laughed mirthlessly. “Every day. He was such a tit, Carver. He blamed me for everything. I swear, if he were here, he’d be telling me how Ostagar was all my fault. And Maker’s blood, I’d give anything to hear him say it.”

“I wish I could have known him.”

“You only say that because you _didn’t_ know him. Trust me on this. He would have given you hell.”

Tears hovered on her lashes, but her face was hard, as if she knew they were there but refused to let them fall. Without thinking, Anders reached out and brushed one of the tears aside. Autumn’s chin jerked up, her eyes meeting his.

“I’m sorry you lost him,” Anders murmured. “I know how much you love your family. I know how deeply you must feel his loss.”

They were lucky to be so adored by her. In his most selfish moments, Anders would give anything to have Hawke feel the same devotion to him.

“Ah, balls,” Hawke said, and Anders wondered how many other phrases Hawke had picked up from Isabela. “What about you, Anders? Have you ever lost anyone?”

Anders hesitated. “You mean besides Karl?”

Hawke winced and looked at Anders with wide eyes. “Karl. I’m so sorry, Anders, I wasn’t even thinking.”

“It’s all right. Karl is the only one I’ve lost...that way.”

Hawke took a breath. “Did...you love him?”

She sounded a little nervous. Was that because she had feelings for him and was jealous of his first lover? Or was he just imagining what he wanted to hear?

“You mean, was I in love with him? I don’t know. We didn’t talk about it. Talking would have made it...too real, somehow. When we were together, we could forget that out in the world, we were nothing but templar slaves. He was there for me when I needed him, and I...I tried to be there for him.”

Anders stopped talking, because he hadn’t been there for him, not when it counted. He’d promised to help him, but in the end, he hadn’t stopped the bloody templars from ripping his mind away. The templars didn’t give a fig for the person that Karl had been. His warmth, his laughter, his brilliant wit--they meant nothing to those who imprisoned him. He was just a mage, just another receptacle for evil, just another troublesome problem to be disposed of.

They certainly didn’t care that he could kiss with the ferocity of a tiger, that his eyes crinkled whenever he cast a healing spell, that he was as gentle and patient a teacher as he was a lover....

Hawke’s voice cut off his train of thought. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I should have been able to save him for you.”

Anders would always live with his own guilt, but he hadn’t expected it from Hawke. “What could you have done?” he said. “You can’t possibly think this was your fault. He was already Tranquil by the time I asked for your help.”

“I don’t know,” Autumn replied. “Something.”

Anders sighed. For a moment, they both sat in silence.

“Who else did you lose?” she asked softly.

Anders blinked.

“You said Karl was the only one you lost ‘that way.’ Who did you lose...other ways? Do you mean your parents?”

She didn’t miss anything. It was almost unnerving how well she knew him sometimes.

“I lose people,” he said. “I used to lose them when I escaped the Circle. People don’t like to be left behind, abandoned.” That was how things had ended with Karl, the first time. He’d been dragged back to discover that Karl hadn’t been willing to wait for him, couldn’t forgive Anders for leaving him behind. “But I _couldn’t_ stay. I couldn’t be locked up like that, always watched by the templars. It’s simply not in me. I...don’t know if you can understand.”

Hawke nodded. “I don’t think I could stand to be locked up, either.”

Of course she understood. She was right. She might not be a mage, but it wasn’t in her nature to stay imprisoned any more than it was in his. In their core, they were the same in that.

“I lost my friends in the Wardens. The Hero of Fereldan. Did you know that I was friends with her? She was...a remarkable woman. But duty took her away.”

Raven Surana. She’d been more than remarkable, and more than a little in love with her Antivan elf, much to Anders’s dismay. Anders thought about telling Hawke how very near he’d come to falling in love with Raven, but he thought it might make her jealous, and there was no comparison. He’d never felt about anyone the way he felt about Hawke.

Still, it had been harder than anyone knew for Anders to watch Raven walk away. With her there, the Wardens had been a sanctuary, a safe haven. When she was gone...it was just another prison.

Anders continued. “And of course, I lost my parents. Being dragged away from your family in chains isn’t something you get over. I could hear my mother’s sobs, but the templars wouldn’t let me look at her. My father...he was glad to be rid of me. I was a mage, punishment from the Maker for his sins. All the years spent loving and raising me...they meant nothing when the magic started. Who knows. Maybe he never did love me at all.”

Hawke’s mouth was agape. “Your father couldn’t really believe that.”

How could someone so worldly be so naive? “Oh, he could. You don’t realize how rare y--your family is.” He’d almost said “you are.” He didn’t need to give away how besotted he really was. “Most of the world is governed by fear. That makes it all too easy to believe the Chantry’s lies.”

“But how can anyone who knows you not see how _good_ you are? How compassionate and sweet and--” She stopped abruptly and looked away.

Anders’s heart swelled. “Good” was not a word he would use to describe a half-insane almost-abomination. But...Hawke saw him that way. If she could believe in him, maybe there was something worthwhile in him after all. Something worth fighting for.

Anders was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to wrap his arms around her.

“Maybe he was just shocked,” Hawke said, still looking away. “Once you were gone, he must have realized how foolish he’d been. I bet he misses you.”

It took Anders a moment to realize Hawke was still talking about his father. “You don’t need to justify what he did,” he told her. “I stopped needing his forgiveness a long time ago.”

Hawke reached over and took his hand.

It was almost scary, letting her get this close. He’d lost so many people. It was becoming unbearable to even think about losing her. That was very bad, because he could never have her.

“I should go,” Hawke said quietly.

“You should stay here,” Anders said with alarm. “It’s not safe out there. The gangs have been active tonight, and you’re not even wearing armor.”

“I couldn’t impose...”

Anders gestured expansively. “I have cots. Lots of them. Please stay.”

Hawke sighed, but it was a sigh of acceptance. “Mother will be so worried.”

“She knows you can take care of yourself. You’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

He gave her a smile and started to stand, to get her some blankets, but Hawke held fast to his hand. Without a word, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the cheek.

Anders held stock-still, his heart thundering in his chest, as her lips hovered over his cheek. It would take so little, just the slightest tilt of his head, to capture those lips with his own. One little tug on the arm to pull her tight against his chest as he devoured her mouth. They were all alone. He realized with a start that this was the first time they had really been alone together. Nobody would interrupt them. He could scoop her up in his arms and carry her to his room in back, peeling off each article of clothing to reveal the soft, warm flesh beneath. He would trace slow, languid patterns on her skin as his lips trailed down her long, exquisite neck, making her moan in anticipation...

But why bother going anywhere? Both clinic doors were locked. He could push her back on the cot, hands tangling roughly in her hair. She would gasp and pull him closer, not resisting as Anders tore the clothing from her body. She would return his kisses passionately, her hands on his body as urgent as his...

It would just take one little turn of the head.

Anders would give everything he had to take that step, to finally feel her in his arms, completely and totally his. But if he did...he would destroy her, sooner or later.

Everything _he_ had was a small price to pay, but he wouldn’t risk one iota of _her_ happiness.

He pulled back.

\-----

Hawke just meant to give him a friendly peck on the cheek. Just a small gesture of comfort for the hurt he’d suffered. But when her lips touched Anders’s skin, his breathing hitched, and his grip on her hand tightened.

Shivers ran down Hawke’s spine. _He_ does _want me_ , Hawke thought as her pulse sped up. _I was wrong. Oh, Maker, I was wrong_.

She couldn’t move. Nothing existed in the world but Anders and her, and the closeness of their bodies. His head tilted infinitesimally closer. For a brief, glorious moment, she was sure he was going to kiss her.

Hawke trembled in anticipation.

And then he pulled away.

Anders rose from the cot and began to remove some blankets from a nearby cabinet. Hawke blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what had happened.

“These should keep you warm enough,” Anders said, not meeting her eyes. He set the blankets next to her. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything more comfortable to sleep on than these cots. I would offer you my bed, but it’s just the same as these.”

“This is what you sleep on?” Hawke asked, making a mental note to buy him a mattress.

“I don’t mind it, but I wish I had something better for you. I’ll...let you have some privacy. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be just through that door.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, then leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for coming to me, Autumn,” he murmured, and fled to his room.

She must be the biggest idiot in Thedas.

What in Andraste’s name was she thinking? She _knew_ Anders didn’t fancy women. He’d already told her as much. And there she was, making a fool of herself. Letting her imagination run away with her.  
   
Had he noticed her reaction? Did it make him uncomfortable? Was that why he’d just rushed off like that?

Hawke lay back on her cot and pulled the covers over her head. She didn’t _think_ she’d ruined anything. He probably didn’t even notice. She was just comforting a friend. Nothing unusual about that. And even if Anders had picked up on her feelings, she felt pretty sure that their friendship was strong enough by now to survive a stupid mistake on her part.

But she would have to be more careful in the future.


	7. Chapter 7

“I don’t understand what went wrong,” Bethany said, fiddling with a strand of her hair. “Autumn is brilliant now. Why hasn’t Anders jumped on her already?”

Much to Isabela’s surprise, Bethany had shown up--alone--at the Hanged Man at an ungodly hour of the night, claiming she had sneaked out of her Lowtown home down the street while her sister was sleeping. Bethany was concerned about their little project: Hawke and Anders. It had been weeks, and Anders still hadn’t succumbed to temptation and pounced on Hawke, despite the fact that she was now, unwittingly, an absolutely brilliant tease. Any other man would have taken Hawke to bed ages ago, but not Anders. He clung to his resolve.

Isabela had been watching them, searching for some sign that their relationship was changing, some hint of budding romance, but there was nothing different about them. Just the same repressed sexual tension. Which was why Bethany was here now, worrying about them.

Isabela was more than a little drunk at the moment, but she set her drink down on the bar and forced herself to focus on the problem at hand. “Anders has willpower of steel, apparently. Maybe he was the wrong target for Hawke. We could start over with someone else. Fenris seems to like her.”

Bethany shook her head. “It’s too late for that. Sister is too far gone for Anders now. And even if we tried, she would never believe the same line about Fenris. We’d just give away our lie.”

Isabela took another drink. “You know, maybe your sister should just give up on men altogether and switch to women.” She raised her eyebrows at Bethany. “I’d be happy to show her what she’s been missing.”

Bethany covered her face. “Isabela!”

Isabela grinned. Bethany was adorable when she said her name that way, all shocked and horrified. “Jealous, love? The offer is open for her gorgeous sister, as well.”

“ _Stop it_ , Isabela. We’re talking about Autumn and Anders. I’m...not sure we did the right thing.” Bethany continued to fiddle with her hair, a cute nervous habit that Isabela didn’t remember seeing before.

“You worry too much. It was just a little white lie, kitten. Anyway, it’s not over yet. Give it some time. With the way Hawke is throwing herself at him, Anders can’t hold out forever.”

Bethany bit her lip. “I hope you’re right. Everyone deserves the chance to feel wanted.”

Isabela paused. It was an offhand comment, but something in Bethany’s tone wasn’t offhand at all.

Normally, Isabela would let this kind of thing go. But she was well past drunk and Bethany was looking even more beautiful than usual and, well--it was just too good an opportunity to pass up.

“If I didn’t know better, kitten,” Isabela murmured, “I might think you were lonely.”

Bethany blinked at her, still fiddling with her hair. “Don’t be silly. I...I’m fine. I was just talking about Autumn.”

She wasn’t a very good liar.

Isabela reached out, took the strand of hair from the younger woman’s fingers, and tucked it back behind her ear, noting with pleasure that Bethany blushed prettily at her touch.

“Don’t you know what it’s like to be wanted?”

“Isabela,” Bethany protested, but her voice was little more than a whisper, and her eyes were wide and temptingly innocent as they stared into Isabela’s.

 _She does want this,_ the pirate realized, and a shiver ran down her spine. She hadn’t really thought that Bethany might go for it, but suddenly she was tingling with anticipation.

Still, she would go slow. She wouldn’t push herself on the mage. She would make sure Bethany wanted this, every step of the way.

“If you don’t like this,” Isabela said softly, “tell me to stop.”

She cupped Bethany’s cheek in her hand and laid a kiss on her mouth.

It was soft, and brief, just the slightest brushing of lips, but it sent a wave of pleasure through Isabela’s body. When she pulled back, she was pleased to see that Bethany’s eyes were still closed, her breath coming quickly, her lips just slightly parted.

The sight was magnificent.

“I want you, kitten,” Isabela whispered. “Come back to my room.”

“I couldn’t...” Bethany’s half-hearted protest trailed off.

Isabela kissed her again, just a touch harder, just a touch longer. “I won’t force you, sweet thing. I want you to want this, too. But I don’t believe in missing opportunities. Do you?”

“No. I mean, yes. I...I don’t know. I can’t...I’ve never...”

Isabela ran a hand down Bethany’s neck, over the smooth skin of her shoulder. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, love.”

Bethany bit her lip, indecision in her eyes. Isabela said nothing. With someone else, she would be more forceful, showing the other woman exactly what she had to offer. But that wouldn’t be right with Bethany.

“Yes,” Bethany whispered. “Yes. I want this.”

Isabela smiled and held out her hand. Wordlessly, Bethany took it and followed Isabela to her room.

\-----

Bethany woke before Isabela.

The lovely pirate lay next to her, luxuriant black hair fanned out on her pillow. Her warm, brown skin glowed in the early morning sun creeping in through the window.

The sun. Bethany wanted to stay, to curl up in Isabela’s arms, to see where their passion might take them this morning, but she knew she didn’t have the luxury. If the sun was up, so was Autumn, which meant that very shortly there would be a panic at Gamlen’s house when they discovered her gone.

Last night had been...amazing. She hadn’t known anything could be like that. Isabela was soft and warm, sensual and passionate, gentle and exciting. She’d taken Bethany to places she’d never dreamed of with a sweet wildness that left her breathless and gasping.

Bethany had wondered, in her most secret thoughts, what it might be like to...make love to a woman. To make love to Isabela. But she hadn’t expected it to be so wonderful.

She wanted nothing more than to stay right here in Isabela’s embrace. But she couldn’t tarry, no matter how much she wanted to. If she left now, she could convince Autumn she’d just gone out for an early morning walk.

With a sigh, she began hunting for her robes.

\-----

Isabela woke up to the sound of rustling. Lazily, she rolled over and opened an eye. Bethany was sitting on the edge of the bed, gathering the scattered remnants of her clothing.

Isabela sat up. “People don’t usually leave my bed until I’m ready for them to,” she joked lightly.

“I’m sorry,” Bethany said, blushing. “Last night was...wonderful. I...thank you.”

Her eyes were serious, and Isabela was concerned. This was usually the point where a new lover wanted to “define their relationship.” And sure enough, Bethany seemed to be preparing herself to say something.

Isabela braced herself for it.

“I’ll be leaving for the Deep Roads tomorrow,” Bethany said.

That was not what Isabela had expected.

“So soon?” she said. “I’ll be coming, too, won’t I?”

Bethany shook her head. “I don’t think so. Sister is just planning to take me and Anders, and of course Varric will be there.”

“Oh,” said Isabela.

She wasn’t quite sure how she felt. She hadn’t given too much thought to the Deep Roads expedition before, certainly not enough to be concerned. Now she felt a knot of...something...deep in her gut.

It was probably just hunger, Isabela thought, brushing it off. Bethany, Hawke, Anders, and Varric were all more than capable of handling themselves in any battle.

Bethany smiled at her, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll be back before you know it. Then...if you want to, we can pick this up where we left off. If you want to.”

The mage leaned over and kissed Isabela on the cheek.

Isabela grabbed Bethany’s hand. “Come back tonight,” she said.

Bethany hesitated, then nodded. “If I can get away, I’ll come.”

\-----

Leandra’s pleading eyes bored holes into Hawke’s heart.

To take Bethany...or leave her. Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to Hawke not to bring her sister. She depended on her too much. With Bethany by her side, she was confident they could meet every threat.

But what if they couldn’t?

She saw what her mother must see. Her two remaining children, disappearing into a wilderness of monsters. The same monsters that had already killed her son. If something went wrong, she would lose both Autumn and Bethany in one fell swoop. Her entire family, gone.

On the other hand, there were the templars. It wasn’t exactly a secret anymore what Bethany was. Most of the underworld knew, thanks to Athenril and her smugglers. And that knight-captain, Cullen...Hawke had seen the glances he’d given Bethany. She had the strong suspicion that it was only his belief in Hawke’s ability to control her sister, coupled with his gratitude for their help, that kept him from locking Bethany up. But if Hawke wasn’t here....

“It’s the templars or the darkspawn, Mother,” Bethany said fiercely, voicing Autumn’s concerns. “At least I’m allowed to fight darkspawn.”

Behind her, Bartrand muttered something about needing to decide.

Hawke met her mother’s eyes and faced down her imploring stare. She saw the horror beginning to dawn in Leandra’s expression.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Hawke whispered.

Her mother was obviously struggling to hold herself together. “Bethany, I beg you. Don’t go. Don’t do this!”

Hawke didn’t hear Bethany’s words of reassurance. She only saw the heartbroken, accusing look Leandra flashed at Autumn before turning away.

Anders came up behind her and put a hand on Hawke’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” he said gently.

Hawke closed her eyes, grateful for Anders’s presence. “I will be,” she said.

“It’ll be okay,” Anders promised, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We won’t let anything happen to Bethany.”


	8. Chapter 8

It was blasted cold in the Deep Roads.

Well, okay, the entire Deep Roads weren’t cold, but it was cold here, wherever here was. They were apparently in a part of the underground where there was very little lava to provide heat and light.

Hawke had given her extra blanket to Bethany, and now she was freezing. She had just climbed under her remaining covers and was quickly realizing that there was no way to sleep in this blighted cold.

“Shit,” she heard Anders say.

Hawke turned over to see Anders had paused in setting up his own bedroll and was staring at her. Around them, most of the expedition was getting ready for bed. Varric was still talking to Bartrand, and Bethany was fast asleep.

“You’re freezing, aren’t you? Shit,” Anders repeated.

“I’m fine.” Hawke frowned stubbornly at him.

Anders sighed. “Spare me the ‘I’m so tough’ routine. If you shake any harder, you’ll bring the ceiling down on top of us.”

With a groan, he tossed a blanket at Hawke. “There. Take it. You’ll sleep better.”

Hawke caught the blanket and looked at Anders. The two blankets he had left were both thin and tattered. He would turn into an icicle if he tried to sleep with just them.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not taking your blanket.”

“I think the polite way to accept a gift is with a ‘thank you.’”

“I’m not taking your blanket.”

“Autumn, you’ll freeze.”

Hawke stood up, grabbed her entire bedroll, and dragged it over next to Anders. “This is silly,” she told him. “We’re both mature adults. We’ll share our blankets.”

Anders stood still. “You don’t have to do that,” he told her.

Hawke knew she didn’t have to, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to.

“It makes the most sense,” she pointed out. “We’d keep each other warm. Body heat and all that. If...if you don’t find the idea too unpleasant.”

Anders made a strange noise. “No, of course I don’t.”

Hawke arranged the blankets and climbed under them, holding them up for Anders to join her.

Anders was looking at her with some indefinable emotion on his face. Hawke began to fear she’d put him off.

“Is...something wrong?” Hawke asked.

Anders shook his head and climbed under the blankets next to her. His arms slid comfortably, naturally around her.

Hawke sighed with pleasure. Almost immediately, her shivering stopped. This was warm and perfect and wonderful. Without thinking, she put her arms around Anders’s waist and curled her body closer to his.

Anders drew in a breath.

Immediately, Hawke stiffened. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Does this bother you?”

“No,” Anders whispered, putting a hand on her head and drawing it against his chest. “You were right. Body heat and all that.”

Hawke relaxed in his arms.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake that she’d made in the clinic. Hawke knew that this was strictly platonic. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t pretend.

In fact, it was very hard not to, being this close to him. In another world, in another life, they might be lovers, curled up in each other’s arms not for protection against the cold, but for the safety and warmth of a loved one’s embrace. If things weren’t how they were, Hawke would tilt her head back and kiss his face. First she would kiss his cheeks, then his forehead, then his adorable nose, before letting him claim her mouth with his own and getting swept away with passion. She wondered if his stubble would scratch her, and then thought she would probably like it.

Not for the first time, Hawke wondered what kind of kisser Anders would be. Strong and insistent? Soft and gentle? Warm and firm? She wondered what it would be like to kiss his ears, his neck, his shoulders. What it would be like to touch his body.

There was so much she didn’t know. She wasn’t a virgin or anything, but she was hardly experienced, either. A couple of fumbled encounters with teenage boys in Lothering could hardly be considered educational.

Anders dipped his head so that his cheek was resting against Hawke’s hair. “Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Mmm,” Hawke replied.

A question came into Hawke’s mind, the kind of question she usually felt shy about asking. But there was no reason she shouldn’t ask it--she and Anders often talked about all sorts of things, some of them very personal. And Anders didn’t know what her feelings for him were. It would just seem like idle curiosity.

Besides, surely it was more conspicuous if she avoided the topic of his interest in men. If she talked about it like it was no big deal, he’d be less likely to guess how she really felt about him.

“Anders?”

“Yes, Autumn?”

“Can--can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal.”

“You can ask me anything.”

“I just was wondering--is it different when a man makes love to another man? I mean, does he do things differently? Besides the obvious, of course.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Hawke realized how stupid the question was. How was he supposed to know if it was different?

Anders paused. “Are you sure you’re okay with that? With...my past, I mean?”

So much for being less conspicuous. She felt like a complete fool. “Of course I am!” she told him. She would have pulled back to look at him, but she was too embarrassed. “I like you for who you are. Everything about you. I hope you know that by now.”

“I do. But...I’m not sure I understand your question.”

“I just meant--” Hawke was grateful that Anders couldn’t see her face. Why did she pick this of all times to have this conversation? “I’ve only been with a couple of guys. And one of them...well, he just sort of...did his thing. He wasn’t really paying attention to me at all. But the other...he was better. Nicer. He...made sure I enjoyed it, too.”

Anders didn’t respond, and Hawke struggled to gather her thoughts. “It made me think. It seems like men don’t need that much to...have a good time. But for women...it takes more work. So I wondered if men take that kind of time with each other? Or if they don’t even bother?”

Still Anders said nothing, and Hawke wanted to bury herself in the stone floor of the Deep Roads. “It’s a stupid question, I guess. You don’t have to answer it.”

“No,” Anders said. “It’s not a stupid question. I think the answer is, if he’s a decent sort, then a man will make sure his partner is enjoying it, whether it be a man or a woman. It shouldn’t make a difference.”

“That makes sense,” Hawke mumbled, pressing her face into his shirt.

“Autumn?” Anders whispered.

“Yes, Anders?”

There was a long silence.

“Nothing,” Anders said finally. “I just want you to know that it’s okay to ask me anything.”

Hawke curled up against Anders’s chest and went back to pretending. Anders began stroking her hair, and before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep.

\-----

Anders’s cock was hard as a tree.

That probably would have been inevitable in this situation, but Autumn’s choice of conversation hadn’t helped matters. Or it _had_ helped, depending on how you looked at it. He had no right to be jealous, given his own wide and varied sexual past, but the thought of Autumn with other men was driving him crazy. Maker’s breath, there had only been two of them. How could he get worked up over that?

But...one of them had been “nicer.” Just what, exactly, did “ _nicer_ ” mean? Part of him didn’t want to know, but then he thought it was worse not to. His imagination could come up with way too much on its own.

Rationally, he wanted her to have had good experiences. But when it came to Hawke, he wasn’t very rational at all. He could barely stand the thought of anyone else touching her. It made him want to ravish her himself until he’d erased all other men from her memory.

Autumn’s body was pressed tightly against his. If she moved even an inch, she would feel how hard he was for her. Her breasts were crushed against his chest. Her strong, shapely leg was curled up against his, and all he could think about was spreading those legs open and taking what he wanted. The only question was whether to start with his tongue or his cock.

His tongue, definitely. After the conversation they’d just had, there was no question. He wanted to make her moan and shudder and beg. He wanted to feel those strong legs clamped around his ears as he licked and sucked and tasted. _Then_ he would take her, burying himself deep within her sheath. She would be hot and wet and wanting...

Anders made an involuntary, desperate noise low in his throat. His willpower was fast being reduced to tatters. The only thing that kept him hanging on at all was the presence of dozens of dwarves and hirelings all around them, many of whom were awake.

If they’d been alone, it would have been all over.

Anders buried his face in Autumn’s hair and tried to calm himself, focusing on the comfort of having her near. He felt the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept. During the day, she was fierce, a warrior to be feared, but now, in his arms, she was sweetly vulnerable. He realized suddenly what an honor it was that she trusted him this much, enough to sleep in his embrace. This would be the only time he’d be able to be so close to her. He’d best treasure every second of it.

Well, maybe not the only time. They would be making camp every night of their expedition, and Hawke would surely be cold again at some point.

Anders hoped so.


	9. Chapter 9

Hawke felt most alive in the heat of battle.

She wasn’t sure what that said about her, and frankly she didn’t have time to care. Two more darkspawn were swooping in on her. She raised her greatsword and swung it in a large, wide arc that sliced both their bellies open. As they dropped, first to their knees and then on their faces, she was already turning, looking for the next enemy.

Not too far away, Bethany was surrounded. From a distance, Varric and Anders were helping her pick off her enemies.

She was about to charge in to help Bethany when a movement behind Anders caught her eye.

She wasn’t sure why he didn’t sense the hurlocks coming up behind him. Perhaps it was the sheer number of darkspawn they’d been battling, perhaps he was worried about Bethany, perhaps he was just too fatigued. Whatever the reason, he didn’t turn as the nearest hurlock raised its blade and aimed for his head.

Hawke was running towards him before she’d even consciously decided to do so. Her form was wrong--she was leaving herself exposed--but there was no time. That hurlock’s sword was headed straight for Anders’s skull.

With a cry, she knocked the sword out of the hurlock’s hands...

...and gasped as a second hurlock’s blade pierced her throat.

 _I failed_ , she thought, and everything went black.

\-----

It happened both unbearably slow and unstoppably fast.

Anders turned at the sound of Hawke’s battle cry. He saw her charge, disarming the darkspawn that would have put a sword through his own head.

Saw the second darkspawn’s blade slide straight into her neck.

Hawke’s body crumpled to the ground like a lifeless doll.

Anders felt more than heard the scream that tore through his body. Felt the power come unbidden to his hands as he lost control.

\-----

Bethany was locked in combat, battling for her own life, unable to do a thing except watch in horror as blood spurted from her sister’s throat.

The cry that followed was almost inhuman in its rage. It took Bethany a moment to realize it was coming from Anders.

Bethany had seen Anders call on Justice’s power on the battlefield, but that was nothing compared to this. His skin cracked and came apart. Blue light glowed from within him, almost blinding in its intensity. His hands erupted in flames.

And so did the darkspawn. _All_ of them.

It wasn’t any fire spell Bethany had ever seen, and she’d spent years perfecting her fire magic. Every darkspawn on the battlefield spontaneously combusted in a tower of blue flames. Bethany felt the heat of the fire scorch her own skin and was alarmed at the sheer amount of power being unleashed.

Just a moment later, the bodies of uncountable darkspawn lay in ashes around them. The blue glow abruptly disappeared, and Anders dropped to his knees next to Hawke’s body.

\-----

Anders was kneeling on the stone floor, holding Autumn’s twitching body, her lifeblood pouring out all over his arms and spilling hot onto the cold stone.

She was still alive. There was still a chance. That was a miracle in itself, but there was no time to feel relief. Desperately, he tried to pull on a breath of mana, to call healing energy to his fingertips, but the power fizzled just out of his grasp.

 _Oh, Maker, help me,_ he thought, _not now._ Futilely, Anders tried to scrounge even the barest scrap of mana, but it was fruitless. He had nothing left.

And then there was a potion at his lips. Anders didn’t know who held it out to him, but he swallowed greedily, the metallic tang of lyrium the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

Hope surged in Anders’s breast as the healing power flowed into his hands. Frantically, he pushed the energy into Hawke. So much mutilation of her precious form. With his magic, he could feel every iota of the mangled damage she’d taken. Anders focused his whole mind on repairing each delicate artery, each severed muscle, rebuilding her to her former perfection. She had lost so much blood. He pushed extra energy into her, regenerating her blood supply--something he hadn’t even known he was capable of until Autumn needed it.

Finally he stopped, drained and breathless, because there was nothing more to do. She was healed, whole, perfect...

...but not breathing.

 _Oh, Maker, no._

Anders tried to stop himself from even thinking about the possibility, but the thought slid into his mind anyway. It happened, sometimes. The soul slipped away while the body was being healed, and there was nothing to be done. If she was dead, she was dead, and no power in Thedas could bring her back.

If her soul was gone, all his effort had created was a beautiful corpse.

 _Maker, please,_ Anders found himself begging, _if there’s any good in you, not this woman. Sweet Andraste, have some mercy._

For a moment, there was nothing.

And then Hawke coughed and spat blood.

“Oh, praise the Maker, Andraste, and all the good spirits,” breathed Anders as he threw his arms around her.

\-----

Hawke opened her eyes, coughing, to see all three of her companions staring at her with wide eyes. Anders whispered a blessing and scooped her up in his arms.

Over his shoulder, Hawke met Bethany’s eyes. A tear slid down her sister’s cheek, and Hawke knew she’d come much closer to death than she ever had before.

She didn’t know how to deal with the depth of emotion she saw in their faces, so she made a joke. “Looks as though I had you all worried,” she teased lightly. “Do you really think a few darkspawn could take me out?”

Anders made a noise that could have been a laugh or a sob.

Varric was the one to answer first. “You’ve got to be more careful, Hawke,” he told her, matching her light tone. “If you’re not here, I’d have to carry this party all by myself. I don’t particularly fancy having that kind of responsibility.”

If Hawke had been more careful, Anders would probably be dead. So Hawke simply said, “I’ll be just fine. Haven’t you noticed? I’ve got a healer who can work miracles.”

\-----

Bethany had always liked Anders. It took a special kind of person to devote themselves to helping others the way he did. And not only the work he did in his clinic--she could see that his passion for the mage cause stemmed from a desire to protect, to stop the unnecessary suffering of so many people. Sometimes she found his devotion to his cause a tad frightening, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was born from compassion.

It had been obvious from nearly the moment they’d met him that he was crazy about Bethany’s sister, but she hadn’t realized until today that he was completely, one-hundred-percent, utterly in love with Autumn.

When they were back at camp and the entire expedition was packing up to move on, Bethany saw her opportunity. When she was sure her sister was thoroughly distracted, Bethany approached Anders.

“Why don’t you tell her?” she asked him without preamble.

“Tell her?”

“Tell Autumn.”

Anders met her eyes wearily, and she could see that he understood exactly what she meant.

“I have nothing to offer her.”

Bethany frowned. “You can’t possibly believe that, not really.”

Anders smiled, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t believe it. I know it.”

“But I don’t understand. You’d be perfect for her. You’re kind, compassionate, thoughtful, strong enough to put up with her...and you love her. You’re exactly what she needs.”

Seeing Autumn fall, coming so close to losing her...it had made things real for Bethany in a way they hadn’t been before. Life was so fleeting. It slipped through your fingers like water. Carver had died at eighteen years old. He would never fall in love, never know the joy of being cherished by another person. And it could happen to Autumn just as easily.

It seemed doubly important now that Bethany felt so close to finding her own happiness. She wanted her sister to know the same joy she had discovered.

But she wouldn’t think about Isabela now. There would be plenty of time to let things unfold between the two of them when she returned. Right now, Autumn was what was important.

“Don’t you think Autumn deserves to know?” she asked Anders.

“No,” Anders said, and suddenly he looked old, older than he ever had before. She looked into his eyes and saw a lifetime of pain and heartache looking out of them. “You don’t understand. I’m not stable anymore. Not for long. You can’t see what’s in my head. I’ve always hated what’s been done to mages, but I used to be able to put it out of my mind. Now...it’s always there. It keeps me awake at night. Sometimes I can’t focus on anything else. The only time I can relax at all is--”

He stopped abruptly.

Bethany understood what he wasn’t saying. “The only time you can relax at all is when you’re around Sister, isn’t it?”

Anders sighed. “Justice, mages, templars...it’s going to drive me crazy one day. I know it. It isn’t fair to make her suffer, too. I couldn’t do that to her.”

Bethany bit her lip.

“Anders,” she said softly. “I don’t mean to belittle what you’re going through. I can’t pretend to know how hard this must be for you. But you could make Autumn so happy. Don’t you think she deserves that?”

Anders looked away. “At what cost to her? When the templars come after her for having helped me, will it be worth it? When I lose control and it ruins her life, will that small bit of happiness be worth her pain?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I can’t do it. She deserves a normal life, and if I can help her have it by staying out of it, then that’s what I have to do.”

Anders walked away, leaving an unhappy Bethany behind.


	10. Chapter 10

“I tell you, Hawke,” said Varric, “if I never have to eat deepstalker again it’ll be too soon.”

Hawke raised her eyebrows at him from across the campfire. “Considering we’re still days from the surface, I don’t think you’re going to get _that_ wish.”

Varric groaned. “Just one more crime for which Bartrand will have to pay,” he vowed.

“At least you don’t have to cook the things,” Bethany said. “How did I end up with this job, anyway?”

“I suppose I could cook tomorrow night,” Hawke offered.

“Never mind,” Bethany groaned. “I remember now.”

Despite their complaints, the group was in high spirits. They’d escaped from the abandoned thaig with all of them intact and more treasure than Hawke had ever dreamed of. Enough to bribe the templars away from Bethany–and Anders and Merrill, if necessary–for the rest of their lives.

“Varric,” Anders suggested, “didn’t you know a story about a brother’s betrayal? Something involving a vicious death-by-dragon for the backstabbing villain?”

“Oh, yeah,” Varric said, his face lighting up. “That one does seem particularly appropriate, doesn’t it? You want me to tell it?”

The group agreed wholeheartedly, and Varric launched into his epic tale.

Hawke looked around the campfire, realizing how lucky she was to have such good friends. Family, really. She didn’t know when it had happened, but her ragtag group of misfits– _all_ of them–had become just as important to her as the family she was born with.

She couldn’t wait to get home. She promised herself that once she was back in Kirkwall, she would make sure all of her friends knew exactly how much they meant to her.

Across the flames, Anders gave her a smile. It was that sidelong smile, the one that crinkled up his eyes and always made her heart skip a beat.

Suddenly it didn’t matter that she was stranded in the Deep Roads. At that moment, Hawke thought she just might be the luckiest person in Thedas.

\-----

Hawke didn’t think too much of it when Bethany asked to slow down. She knew her sister didn’t have the same stamina as the rest of the group.

But when Bethany collapsed in a heap on the ground, ice cold terror took hold in Hawke’s gut.

“It’s the blight,” Anders said in horror, as Hawke dropped to her knees beside her sister. “I can sense it.”

Tainted by darkspawn. When had that happened? How could Autumn have let the bastards get close enough to infect her?

“I’ll end up just like Wesley, won’t I?” Bethany murmured.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Hawke answered, willing the words to be true.

“I’m not going to last until the surface.” Bethany gasped. “It’s coming on faster...”

Hawke shuddered.

A lot of images flashed before Autumn’s eyes. Her mother’s betrayed face as they left for the Deep Roads. Ser Wesley’s tainted grey skin as he lay gasping and dying. And for some reason, Karl, pleading for Anders to kill him, the Tranquil brand burning on his forehead.

She’d thought then how awful it would be to have to kill someone you loved. She had barely known Anders at the time, but it had broken her heart. Now, she realized with horror, she would have to do the same. She would have to be the one to put an end to her sister’s life.

Autumn had always been strong, but she didn’t know if she was strong enough for this. No, that wasn’t true. The problem was, she knew she _was_ strong enough. She could look into Bethany’s eyes and slide her blade through her heart.

She just didn’t know how she would live with herself after.

\-----

When Bethany fell, Anders’s stomach filled with dread. He knew immediately what had happened. He’d seen it too many times before.

His hand clenched around his staff.

He knew what had to happen now. The blight could not be allowed to spread. It could only cause Bethany more suffering. It had to be ended quickly.

He cared about Bethany. She was a sweet girl and had always been a good friend. He never wanted any harm to come to her. But if it were necessary, he would kill her himself. It wasn’t as if he’d never had to do it before. Mercy killings of the blighted were part of the life of a Grey Warden.

But he knew Hawke would never allow it. She would insist on doing it herself. And that idea made his blood run cold–because he knew what it was to kill someone you loved.

It had destroyed a part of him that he could never get back.

But it would be worse for Autumn. Worse, because while Anders had loved Karl, he hadn’t seen him in years. He knew how to live without him. But Bethany was Autumn’s rock. She was what kept her grounded, who she turned to for support, the person she trusted more than anyone. She’d never gone a day in her life without her sister in it.

Not only that, but Autumn saw herself as Bethany’s protector. She’d made it her job to keep Bethany safe. She’d devoted her life to it.

If he allowed her to kill her sister, he didn’t know who she would be afterwards.

There was another way. It horrified him to think about it, but...the alternative was worse.

He saw her hand twitch over her knife, and he knew he couldn’t let this happen.

“There might be something we can do,” Anders said.

\-----

Anders was going to save Bethany.

Hawke listened to his hurried explanations in awe, knowing what this meant for him. He would seek out the Grey Wardens–people he’d escaped from, who might actively be hunting them. People who certainly had no reason to be doing him a favor. He was willing to risk himself for the chance to save Bethany’s life.

She knew this wouldn’t be an easy solution. The life of a Grey Warden was hard, and Bethany was not exactly the military type. She’d lived all her life in the comfort of her family’s love, and she would be stripped from that.

But it was life. It was chance. And life was always worth trying for.

Hawke looked up at Anders, at the emotion in his eyes.

Something clicked into place in her heart.

She’d already known for some time that she was in love with Anders. But at that moment, she hit the point of no return. She knew in an instant that she would do anything for him, could forgive him any sin. And it didn’t matter that he would never love her back. That wasn’t the point.

He was who he was, and so she was his.

\-----

Bethany could no longer walk on her own.

Hawke, Anders, and Varric took turns being her support. Hawke always took the longest turns, but Anders and Varric wouldn’t let her tire herself out. Plus, as Varric liked to joke, he was the perfect height to be an armrest, and he never minded getting close to a beautiful woman.

Anders hated what he was about to do. Facing people he never wanted to see again, begging for a favor that probably wasn’t a favor at all. Being a Grey Warden wasn’t a life he would wish on anyone.

He was doing it for Hawke. But he had to be sure that Bethany agreed.

While Hawke and Varric picked off a few straggling darkspawn who had foolishly chosen to attack them, Anders turned to the younger mage.

“Bethany,” he said, “I need to know. Is this what you want?”

Because he would kill her himself if she wanted it. He would tell Hawke that it was too late, that the taint had spread too far. She might hate him for it, but he’d learned as a Grey Warden how to do what must be done.

Bethany’s face, already greying from the blight, was creased with indecision. “I...don’t know. I don’t want to be a Grey Warden...but I don’t want to die, either.”

She bit her lip and looked at her sister, who had just felled another genlock.

“Is there no way for me to go home?” she burst out.

Anders’s eyes stung. He shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Bethany,” he whispered, feeling more helpless than ever.

Bethany hung her head. “Then I trust my sister. I’ll do what she chooses.”

Anders searched her face. “Bethany, are you sure?”

“No,” Bethany replied, “but I’ll do it anyway.”

She was clearly resolved to this path, which was perhaps the most Anders could hope for. He was about to leave her, to help Hawke and Varric in their fight, when Bethany said, “Anders?”

“Yes, Bethany?”

“When you get back...can you tell Isabela that I–that I’m sorry?”

Anders didn’t understand the request, but he nodded. “Of course I can.”

Bethany looked at the ground. “Thank you,” she said.

\-----

The Grey Wardens were more frightening than Autumn had expected. They looked Bethany over with critical, unimpressed expressions, and none of them smiled.

 _Maker_ , thought Autumn, _these are the people I’m entrusting with Bethany’s life?_

For a second, Hawke was ready to tell them all to go straight to the Void, but then she looked at Bethany’s face again, at the blotchy greyness marring her beautiful features, and she knew she didn’t have a choice.

So she tightened her arm around Bethany, gritted her teeth, and begged.

She could tell that Anders hated it too by the hardness in his eyes, but he added his voice to hers, reminding Stroud of the lack of recruits, vouching for Bethany’s abilities, pointing out the inevitability of her death if they did nothing. Hawke could see Stroud’s reluctance and realized with sudden panic that he wasn’t going to go for it.

Anders looked Stroud straight in the eyes. “I’m asking you,” he said deliberately.

Stroud hesitated, and Hawke sensed there was more going on beneath the surface of the conversation, something that wasn’t being said.

Finally, Stroud shook his head slowly, but there was resignation on his face.

“Very well,” he said. “I will try. But if I do this,” and he looked straight at Anders, “then we are even.”

Hawke wanted to sink to her knees in relief, but Stroud was going on. “If the girl comes, she comes now,” he ordered sharply. “You may not see her again. Being a Grey Warden is not a cure, it is a calling.”

Fear overtook her again. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye, not yet.

“Are you sure about this?” Bethany asked in a low voice, her eyes wide.

Autumn didn’t know what to say, how to reassure her sister when she was so frightened herself. “I wish it hadn’t worked out this way,” she whispered to her, blinking back tears.

Stroud barked an order to his men, who prepared to leave.

“Then...I guess this is it,” Bethany said, her voice breaking. “Take care of Mother.”

All Hawke could do was nod weakly.

For a moment, she thought Bethany was going to ask her something else. But then Stroud was taking her from her arms, and they were walking away, and all she could see was her sister’s disappearing form.

When they were gone, Autumn did something she almost never did. She began to cry.

Anders put his arms around her. “I’m so sorry,” he said helplessly, his voice muffled by her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

\-----

Isabela was about to call it a night and return to her room when Varric walked into the Hanged Man.

She nearly spilled her drink in her excitement. “Varric!” she cried. “You’re back!”

Varric looked up at her and mustered a smile. “Always good to see your face, Rivaini.”

“I take it your expedition was a huge success and you and Hawke are disgustingly rich?”

“You...could say that.”

Isabela hugged him, even though he smelled awful. “We should celebrate! Get those gorgeous Hawke sisters down here! I’ll get Merrill and--”

“Rivaini,” Varric interrupted, “I don’t think there’s going to be a party tonight.”

Isabela put on a pout. “I suppose you’re right. You all must be exhausted. We can wait until tomorrow–”

“Bethany didn’t come back.”

Isabela stopped cold. “What?”

Varric nodded unhappily. “It’s true,” he said. “She got infected by the blight.”

The floor was suddenly unsteady. Isabela put a hand on a chair for support.

“She’s...dead?”

“No, thank goodness,” Varric said, and the pirate could breathe again. “But...she won’t be coming back. She’s been conscripted into the Grey Wardens.”

Isabela couldn’t speak.

“I don’t think Hawke is going to be much in the mood to celebrate,” Varric continued. “I’m not either, to be honest. But if you’ll give me an hour or so to bathe and change my clothes, you can come up to my rooms and I’ll tell you about it.”

He gave her a pat on the arm. “It’s really good to see your face, Rivaini,” he said, and left her standing there, unmoving, in the middle of the Hanged Man.


	11. Chapter 11

So this was the old Amell estate. The Hawke estate, now.

The sale on the mansion had gone through just a few days ago, and Hawke was spending all her time working to make it “inhabitable.” Anders was just dropping by to see if he could be any help. He knew she had servants now to help her cook and clean, but an extra set of hands was always welcome, right? It had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn’t seen Autumn in three days and couldn’t wait any longer to see her face. Or so he told himself.

Hawke had told him he could come by any time and just let himself in, so he pushed open the heavy door and entered the mansion. “Hello?” he called into the empty foyer.

This would take some getting used to, Anders thought, looking around. It had already occurred to him that he would no longer have the “I was just in the neighborhood” excuse for stopping by after business visits with Lirene. Was there any excuse he could have to be in Hightown that Hawke might believe?

Anders stepped through the foyer into a large room full of boxes and sheet-covered furniture. Hawke was standing near the back of the room, reading a piece of parchment.

Maker, she was beautiful. It always startled him to see her out of her armor. The heavy plate almost seemed to be a part of her sometimes. That was how he saw her–tough, strong, powerful. Seeing her without the armor was like seeing into her soul to the vulnerability underneath.

She was wearing a little housedress that clung to her body suggestively, accentuating her voluptuous figure. Anders didn’t mean to stare, but his eyes were drawn to her against his will. They lingered on the soft curve of her breasts, the smooth roundness of her backside. The skirt was short, showing her long, shapely legs to exquisite advantage.

Maker help him.

She was chewing on her bottom lip as she read, her brows pushed together. Anders adored it when she bit her lip. It made him want to start nibbling on it, too. Unfortunately, she often started doing it at the most uncomfortable times–like in front of the Arishok.

From the way she was absorbed in her letter, Anders guessed that this was probably one of those inappropriate moments.

He couldn’t keep standing there, ogling her like some kind of lecher. He cleared his throat.

Hawke looked up, startled. “Anders!”

She didn’t look happy, and that made Anders nervous. “Is...everything all right?”

Hawke looked at the letter in her hands, then back at him. Wordlessly, she held it out.

Confused, Anders crossed the room and took the letter from her fingers. The wax seal was broken, but the imprint of the Grey Warden griffon was unmistakeable.

“Oh,” he said.

He looked at Hawke, who nodded mutely.

Anders looked back at the letter. He recognized Stroud’s handwriting. That was a bad sign. If Bethany had survived, she would certainly have written herself. It was short. That was a bad sign, too.

“Oh,” Anders said again, shakily.

He read.

 

Mistress Leandra Amell,

Your daughter, Bethany Hawke, wishes me to inform you that she has survived the Joining. She is currently in training and adjusting to her new life. She hopes you are well.

Sincerely,  
Warden Stroud

 

Anders first reaction was an immense relief. Bethany had survived.

Relief was followed immediately by dismay. Bethany must be truly upset to refuse to write herself. The letter was addressed to her mother and made no mention of Hawke. Bethany had always adored her sister. If she would deliberately snub her...

She must be very angry.

Bethany was not a cruel girl. If she was that upset with Autumn, it could only mean that she was very unhappy in her new life.

Anders felt awful. This was his fault. He’s suggested this for Bethany, and look what he’d done. He’d destroyed Bethany’s life. He’d destroyed her relationship with her sister.

He remembered how hard his own Joining had been, how difficult it had been to adjust. One day he’d been a regular person–well, a regular escaped mage–and the next day darkspawn taint was coursing through his veins and he was tied to a strict military order with ideals he didn’t share. _In peace, vigilance; in death, sacrifice_ –he’d just wanted to be _free_ , just wanted to live his life the same as anyone else. At least he’d had Raven Surana–a familiar face from the Circle and a kind soul to lean on. Bethany had no one.

Would it have been better if he’d allowed Bethany to die? Maker, he didn’t know.

Anders looked up at Hawke. Her face was blank, expressionless.

“Well,” Anders said, feeling extremely inadequate, “she’s alive.”

Hawke’s face didn’t change. “I was wondering,” she said. “Are there any rules in the Grey Wardens that would prevent a new recruit from writing to her family herself?”

Anders could lie. He could tell her that there was such a rule, and it would make her feel better. But...he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t want a deception. She was strong enough to face the truth.

He shook his head.

Hawke took the paper back from Anders. “That’s what I thought.”

There was so much he could say, so much he ought to say, but he didn’t know where to start. So he just said, “I’m sorry, Autumn.”

Hawke looked down at the paper in her hand.

And then she crumpled it in her palm.

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m not. What does that say about me? I should be, right? My sister probably hates me. She must be absolutely miserable. And it’s my fault. I made the decision for her. She was doing what I wanted.”

“There were no good decisions,” Anders murmured.

“I know. And you know what? If I were back in the Deep Roads right now, facing the same decision, I would do it again. I’d hand her over to Stroud, just the same as I did before. And I don’t care that she’s miserable. She’s _alive_.” Her eyes were burning fiercely. “Misery is temporary. Death is eternal. As long as she’s alive, there’s hope. There’s possibility. There’s chance.”

She couldn’t know how strongly her words hit home for Anders. There had been a time, especially after he’d joined with Justice, when he’d first lost control, that he’d wished he’d simply died in the Joining. It would have been easier than dealing with the fight he faced every day.

But things had changed. He couldn’t quite believe it sometimes, but he was happy now. He owed that to Autumn, mostly. It was true there were days--most days--when he cursed her for being his own personal desire demon, days when he thought he might explode with the frustration of having her _so close_ and never being able to touch her. But she gave him purpose. She looked at him with those generous eyes and saw someone valuable, someone worth her friendship, someone who could make a difference for good in this world. He liked being the person he saw in her eyes. It gave him hope for his own life.

If he had died in the Joining, he never would have shared with her any of the moments that he held so dear. He never would have sat with her in the Hanged Man, teaching her to play diamondback. Never would have bared his soul to her in his clinic in the middle of the night. Never would have held her in his arms, huddled under blankets against the cold of the Deep Roads.

He hadn’t thought there was anything worth living for, but he’d been wrong. He’d been very wrong. Autumn was worth living for, and he wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

Hawke sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “Am I crazy, Anders?”

“No,” Anders said. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

Hawke met his eyes and something passed between them, some shared understanding.

She smiled. “We should go get the others. Bethany’s alive. This calls for a celebration.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dear Bethany,

It must be so incredibly dull in the Grey Wardens. I decided I must write to you–because I’m sure that sister of yours isn’t giving you all the juicy gossip.

You should have been in the Hanged Man the other night. This drunken woman decided she wanted to see what a dwarf had to offer and set her sights on Varric. Plunked herself right down in his lap and began trying to pamper his Paragon right there in the bar. I thought Bianca was going to have to make an appearance to defend her man’s honor. But you know Varric. He can talk his way out of anything. Told her all about how brokenhearted he was over his _male_ dwarven lover running away with an elf. She not only backed off, but she bought him a pint before she left. That’s our Varric.

That reminds me. Sadly, not much here has changed in the last three years. Our little project with your sister and Anders? Exactly the same. I can hardly believe it. Hawke still believes that Anders only fancies men, and Anders is still holding out against her feminine charms. Sometimes I think I ought to tell Hawke the truth, but what would I say? More importantly, what would be the point? If Anders hasn’t given in by now, telling Hawke isn’t going to change anything.

Honestly, love, I worry about Anders. Don’t tell anyone, it would ruin my image. But sometimes he’s the same old Anders, and sometimes...he’s just so serious.

I’d feel better if I thought Hawke might be able to move on. But she’s clearly just as head over heels for Anders as she was when you left.

You’re probably wondering why I haven’t written to you before now. The truth is, I have written to you. I’ve written you dozens of letters. I just haven’t been able to send them.

Ah, balls. I’m not fooling anyone with this. Chances are, I won’t be able to send this one either.

I miss you, sweetness. It’s not the same without you here. I can go through my days without thinking about you at all, but you’re always there when I lie down at night. I remember the way you melted under my hands and I can’t believe I’ll never touch you again.

You can tell I’m drunk, can’t you? Shit. This is what comes from letting feelings get into things. I would have thought I’d have a harder shell by now.

Don’t let the darkspawn get near you, sweet thing. I don’t know what I’d do.

\-----

Hawke decided that these unending, blasted correspondences were the worst part of being a noble.

She sat at her writing desk, drafting replies to the many notes and invitations she’d received. She was refusing far more invitations than her mother would like, but at least she tried to accept the ones Leandra deemed most important.

No, she corrected herself, this wasn’t the worst part of being a noble, just the part she had to deal with most often. The worst part was actually going to these events and having all the noble pretty boys paraded under her nose. It seemed Leandra couldn’t stop hoping Autumn would settle down and start making grandbabies.

It wasn’t that Leandra disapproved of her. She knew her mother was proud. But she also knew that she had more hopes and wishes for her daughter that just...weren’t coming true. She would be tickled pink if Autumn would just settle down, start a family, and put her adventures behind her.

Hawke supposed she ought to be a little bit grateful for her mother’s matchmaking attempts. She was certainly tired of being alone. She hadn’t had any...male companionship in years. But every man she looked at just--fell short. This one was handsome, but he didn’t have brown eyes the color of amber. This one was charming, but he didn’t have a sidelong smile that crinkled his eyes and made her melt in her boots. This one was a philanthropist, but he hadn’t devoted his whole self to improving the lives of strangers.

Maker, she still had it bad. And it didn’t seem to matter how much she told herself that Anders didn’t want her, that she could never be with him. Her heart was stuck on Anders and refused to move on.

Hawke finished her last note and signed it with a flourish. She hadn’t seen Anders in days, and that always made her nervous. Usually, when he disappeared, it meant he was doing something dangerous for the mage underground. So far, he had always turned up again after a couple of days, no worse for the wear, but Hawke lived in fear of the day when he wouldn’t return. What would happen then? If he was caught, would the templars kill him outright? Or would she go to the Gallows courtyard one day and find him standing there, hollow eyes watching her, a Tranquil brand glaring on his forehead?

She shuddered.

The doorbell rang, and Hawke thanked Andraste for the interruption. She heard Bodahn hurry to the door and stuffed the note she was holding into an envelope.

A moment later, Bodahn returned, saying, “You have company, messere.”

Hawke rose from her desk and turned to see...Lirene.

“This is a surprise,” she said, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. Bodahn had already retreated from the room. “Is there some kind of emergency?”

Hawke made weekly donations to Lirene’s cause, but the woman had never come to her home before. Perhaps something had come up that required a greater sum of money and Lirene thought Hawke would be willing to help. Or perhaps Lirene needed someone with influence to take care of a problem.

“It may be an emergency, in a manner of speaking,” Lirene answered. “I’m concerned about Anders.”

Hawke’s heart turned to stone. The blood drained from her face.

“What’s happened to Anders?” she croaked.

Lirene must have noticed her reaction because she said immediately, “He’s not hurt. He’s at his clinic. But one of his assistants came to me. Says they’re all worried about him. He’s apparently shut himself up in his back room and none of them can convince him to come out.”

The woman looked at her feet. “I would have gone myself to try and talk to him, but I don’t think I could do much good. If he’ll listen to anyone, it’ll be you.”

“I’ll go right now,” Hawke said.


	13. Chapter 13

Anders was hunched over his manifesto, trying to work out the words. He’d been so inspired while he was writing it the last few days, the phrases flying off his pen like they’d come from the Maker himself. Now, he couldn’t understand what he’d been trying to say.

“Mages deserve no less than the rights every free person in Thedas enjoys. We fly with the same flame.”

What in blazes did that mean? And how could he have written it only two days ago?

He remembered having written it. It wasn’t as though Justice had taken over his body and forced him to write. Justice probably would have made more sense. No, he’d been in a frenzy, certain that the words flowing through his mind were truth in its purest form. Now he could barely decipher what it meant, logical sentences mixed in with seeming nonsense.

He had to fix it, somehow. If only he could make it right, it would mean he wasn’t losing his mind. If he could still write a logical argument, then surely that would prove he was still sane.

Perhaps the most terrifying thing was that this had never happened before. For the last couple of days, he’d been caught up in a fervor that made him feel invincible, certain, right. Now that he’d come out of it, he was more scared than ever.

Anders scratched out the meaningless line and searched his memory, trying to remember what he’d wanted to say. He remembered thinking he’d come up with the most brilliant metaphors, but for the life of him, he no longer understood them.

“Anders?”

His heart stopped beating. He recognized that voice, and Maker, she was the last person he wanted to see him right now.

“Anders?”

“Hello, Hawke.”

“Are you all right?”

“I--I’m fine.”

He didn’t turn around. He was too embarrassed to let her see his face. He just wanted to get this done so it wouldn’t have to plague him anymore.

He heard her footsteps come closer, then hesitate just behind him.

“What are you doing?”

Anders heaved a sigh. He knew he couldn’t hide anything from her.

“I’m writing my manifesto.”

“How long have you been working on it?”

“...a few days.”

“Anders, look at me.”

And because he could refuse her nothing, he did.

Her lovely eyes were wide with worry. It broke Anders’s heart.

“Maker,” she whispered.

Anders really didn’t want to know how bad he must look. Her anxious face broke down all his walls and he let the truth spill out.

“It’s this manifesto,” he said. “I don’t understand the things I wrote yesterday. I thought I was so smart...but it’s all just rubbish. I just want to fix it. I don’t want to leave it like that.”

Autumn’s brows drew together, but she nodded. “I understand.”

Anders felt like such a fool. “You must think I’m--”

“I don’t think that.”

She reached for the papers in front of him, then hesitated. “Can I look at these?”

He gestured helplessly at the pages.

Autumn picked up the top page, scanning it. “I’ll help you, if you want. We can fix it together.”

She ought to be running away from him. She’d caught him at his craziest, but instead of pushing him away, she just...accepted. “Why? Why would you help me?”

She sighed. “Because you don’t abandon the people you...care about...when things get hard for them.”

Anders didn’t know what to say.

Autumn put a hand under his chin, lifting his face, scrutinizing it. “When was the last time you slept?” she asked.

“A few days ago,” he admitted, looking away.

She reached out and touched a strand of his hair. “When was the last time you bathed?”

He was too humiliated to answer.

She took his hand. “Come on,” she said. “Come with me.”

“The manifesto...”

“It will wait. You’ll be able to focus better once you’re clean and rested.”

Because he couldn’t refuse her anything, he allowed her to pull him to his feet. And swayed. Apparently he was more exhausted than he realized.

Autumn caught him.

He was so tired. It made everything feel surreal, dreamlike. Autumn slid her arm around his waist, and he wasn’t quite sure that he wasn’t dreaming her.

“Come on,” she said again.

\-----

They didn’t go far. Outside the cellar of her mansion, just a few meters from his clinic doors, Hawke stopped. She looked around surreptitiously--making sure they weren’t being watched, Anders guessed--then drew a key from her pocket and opened the door.

A few minutes ago, all Anders could think about was his manifesto. Now, he scarcely remembered it. The fact that she knew about the nonsense that had come out of his mind and wasn’t horrified by it somehow made it okay to let it go. Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about Autumn and how close she was. Her arm was warm and strong around his waist as she led him up the stairs through her cellar. She smelled like flowers. What was that? Some kind of shampoo?

Just being near her like this made him feel calmer. Peaceful. Safer.

He just wanted her. Maker, he was so tired with wanting her. It was so hard, having her right within his grasp and yet still so far away. Sometimes he just wanted to fall into her embrace and never come out.

He still didn’t know how she felt about him, not really. Sometimes he was sure she wanted him, too. He would look at her and see a desire to match his blazing out of her eyes. Maker’s teeth, those moments were hard to resist. But then she would fall back, become friendly and polite once again, and he was left wondering if he’d only imagined anything else.

What must she think of him right now?

“I’m not usually like this,” he mumbled.

“I know that.” She paused. “How often does this happen?”

“It’s never happened before.”

Autumn’s arm tightened around him as she pushed open a door at the top of the stairs. The lanterns and fine carpeting let Anders know they were in the main part of the house now.

“Bodahn!” Hawke called. “Can you hear me?”

From a distance, Hawke’s manservant called back, “Messere?”

Autumn continued leading Anders forward, and soon the dwarven servant appeared in the hallway in front of them.

“Forgive me, messere, I didn’t know you’d come back! And with your friend, too!”

“It’s fine, Bodahn. I have something to ask of you. Could you start a bath for Anders, please?”

“Of course, messere. I’ll start heating the water now.”

“Thank you, Bodahn. Oh--is there any dinner left?”

“Quite a bit, messere. It’s all in the kitchen.”

The dwarf disappeared around the corner.

Anders let Hawke lead him through the twisting corridors and through a door into the kitchen.

He was hit by the smell before he actually saw the food. Roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. His stomach gurgled, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten in days, either.

Hawke led him to a chair.

“Why are you so good to me?” Anders asked helplessly.

Hawke looked at him, baffled. “Because you’re good to me.”

She piled food onto a plate for him, and Anders dug in gratefully.

Autumn ate too, but not very much. Mostly she watched him. It should have made him uncomfortable, but it didn’t. He felt...safe, under her gaze.

When he couldn’t eat anymore, Hawke slid an arm around him and helped him up.

Anders was reasonably certain he could walk by himself, but he wasn’t about to tell Autumn. It felt so good to be held by her, and chances to touch her were few enough. He wasn’t going to waste this one.

Her gentle manner and sweet kindness were lulling him into a state of complete serenity. He felt as though nothing could ever touch him while he was under her care.

\-----

This was not nearly as bad as Hawke had feared.

She’d known from the beginning, ever since Anders had told her about Justice, that there would be consequences for what he’d done. That he would have a struggle ahead of him.

Falling into a manifesto-writing frenzy--well, that was scary. But compared to the things she saw in her nightmares, it was relatively safe. It was manageable.

Anders hung his head as she led him up the stairs.

She wanted to tell him he didn’t need to feel ashamed. That she was proud of the amount of control he showed over Justice. That she believed in his ability to keep the spirit in check. And that even if he did lose control, she would still be there to help him.

But she didn’t know how to say all those things. So she just held him a little tighter as she led him through her bedroom and into the bathing chamber.

Bodahn was there, pouring a bucket of steaming water into the large metal tub in the center of the room. Hawke noted with approval that he had used her bubble bath, and the tub was filled with white foam. She sat Anders down on a stool and he obeyed her submissively, saying nothing, just watching her.

She crossed the room to Bodahn. “I know you’re not used to this sort of thing,” she said quietly, “but can you stay and bathe Anders? He’s not well, and I’m afraid he might just pass out and drown himself.”

Bodahn, ever agreeable, just bobbed his head. “Of course, messere. Whatever you need.”

She looked back at Anders. He was still watching her.

“Do you have to leave?” he said and then bit his lip.

Hawke hesitated. He looked so lost.

There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t stay to help him, was there? It would feel unbearably intimate to her, but she knew it wouldn’t really be that way. And he looked so dismayed. How could she leave him in the hands of a virtual stranger when he was so torn apart?

But...to stay and help him bathe? Could she really do such a thing?

Hawke took a deep breath and turned to the dwarf. “Never mind, Bodahn,” she said shakily. “I’ll stay with him.”

Bodahn’s eyes went as wide as saucers, but he bobbed again and left them.

Hawke turned to Anders, and her palms began to sweat. The way he looked at her, it was almost as if...

She turned away and looked at the wall. She was so nervous. “Do you think...can you get yourself undressed?” she asked awkwardly.

“Yes,” Anders replied, his voice husky. A moment later, she heard shuffling noises, and after a bit, the sound of water lapping.

“I’m covered,” he said, and she turned around.

He was in the tub, most of his body hidden by the bubbles. She could see his bare shoulders and chest, a bit of blond chest hair plastered to his skin. His knees poked out of the water. He was still gazing at her intently. Almost like a cat might watch a mouse, she thought, except that no predator ever had that vulnerability in its eyes.

Her legs were like jelly as she walked toward him. She kneeled at the head of the tub, behind him. With her hands, she scooped up water and began to wet his hair.

Anders’s eyes closed. He sank deeper into the tub, his head falling back.

She continued, making sure every strand of hair was wet, watching as the water droplets rolled down the side of his face but taking care not to let any water fall into his eyes. His face was peaceful, serene. It was a breathtaking sight.

When his hair was wet, she poured shampoo into the palm of her hand and began to massage the suds into his hair.

Anders shivered and drew in a breath.

“Are you cold?” Autumn asked.

“No,” Anders answered in a low voice.

It was funny. She’d wanted to run her fingers through his hair for so long, but she’d never imagined it happening like _this_. She worked the lather through his long locks, running her fingers along his scalp. Anders’s eyes stayed closed, but his lips parted slightly.

She tried not to think about the fact that he was completely naked under all those slippery bubbles, but it was impossible to ignore. This was more of him than she had ever seen. His shoulders were smooth and strong. She ached to run her hands along them, down his chest, sliding them lower in exploration...

She wanted him more than she ever had before. She could scarcely see straight for wanting him.

Her hands began to quiver.

She had to get ahold of herself. Anders was suffering. He needed comfort, not her inappropriate advances. The last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. He didn’t feel that way about her, and he never would. She needed to face that.

Hawke began to rinse the suds out of his hair.

\-----

Anders wanted to stay right here for the rest of his life.

Hawke’s skillful fingers had put him into a trance. He felt as though he had melted bonelessly into the hot water. His entire body was relaxed, tingling.

Well, one part of him wasn’t relaxed. He didn’t think it was possible, as tired as he was, but with Autumn’s magic fingers caressing him–he just couldn’t help it. Blasted Warden stamina.

He was wholly under Autumn’s spell. In that moment, he would do anything for her, give her anything at all that she wanted. Her fingers massaged his scalp, sending chills down his spine.

If she would kiss him now, it would be all over. If she made any move at all, he would be hers. He wanted her with everything that was in him.

But he was too much in her power to move a muscle unless she moved first.

Her hands moved down his neck, trailing lower. They hesitated, trembling.

 _Maker, please,_ Anders thought, _don’t stop. Please, Autumn._

Her hands withdrew.

“You can do the rest yourself, I hope?” Autumn said, her voice faltering.

Anders couldn’t make his voice work. A moment later, he remembered how to nod.

Autumn stood. “There’s a towel and a robe for you, just here,” she said, speaking quickly. “I’ll be right outside the door. Just say my name if you need anything. I’ll hear.”

And then she was gone.

\-----

He stayed in the tub much longer than necessary to get himself clean. He had to wait until his raging erection subsided. He thought about finishing himself off, stroking his hard length with thoughts of her dancing behind his eyes. The temptation was nearly unbearable, but it didn’t feel right somehow, and more importantly, he was still hoping...he was still hoping....

He dried himself with the towel and put on the robe. It was small on him, stretching open across his chest, but it covered everything else, so he supposed it would do.

He pushed open the door to the bedchamber. Hawke was sitting against the wall. When she saw him, she got to her feet. Her warm eyes slid down his body and darkened with something very like desire.

All the time he had spent waiting for his erection to calm down was completely wasted.

But Autumn was already looking away. She came up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist and leading him to the bed.

“You can sleep here,” she said. “I won’t be far if you need me.”

She helped him climb into bed. Anders quickly arranged the covers to hide his predicament.

The bed was...amazing. It was softer than anything he’d ever slept on. The sheets were silk and slid tantalizingly against his skin. Was this a guest room, or was it her bed? He imagined how it would be to sleep here every night with Autumn curled up beside him and thought it would be better than anything the Golden City could possibly have to offer.

He really was tired. It was hard to remember it, what with the hunger he felt for Autumn thundering through his body, but suddenly his eyelids were drooping and he thought it might be very hard to stay awake.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmured, half in a fog. “No woman’s ever been this good to me. Not even my mother. Not even Raven, and she was the kindest person I ever met before you. I could have fallen in love with her, I think, if things had been different. But even she was nothing compared to you. I can’t ever deserve you, you know.”

His eyelids drifted shut.

“ _What_?” he heard Autumn say sharply.

He opened his eyes. She was staring at him, a horrified expression on her face.

Anders blinked in confusion. What had he said wrong? Oh. Raven. How stupid was he, bringing up another woman at a moment like this?

“You don’t have to be jealous,” he blundered. “I told you, there’s no competition. No woman I’ve ever been with--no woman _or_ man--has meant to me what you do.”

Autumn didn’t look any less horrified. Her hands flew to her face. She turned away from him, crossing to the window.

This was why he’d never mentioned any of his former lovers around her. He’d been afraid she would get jealous and it would upset her. Judging by her reaction, he’d been right. Maker.

“I’m sorry,” Anders said helplessly. “Don’t be angry with me.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she turned back around.

“I’m not angry. I just--I remembered something I forgot to do. It’s really important. I--I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She hesitated, then in a quick motion, she rushed forward, planted a kiss on his forehead, and ran out of the room before Anders could say a word.


	14. Chapter 14

Hawke closed the bedroom door behind her and leaned back on it for support. Anders’s words echoed in her head.

 _No woman’s ever been this good to me....No woman I’ve ever been with--no woman_ or _man--has meant to me what you do._

Anders did _not_ only fancy men.

Anders liked women. He had had _relationships_ with women.

 _Anders was attracted to women!_

Horrified, Autumn thought back on all the things she’d said and done in his presence over the last few years. Oh, Maker--she’d asked him about what two men did in bed while cuddling up with him in the Deep Roads. And before that--when they were just getting to know each other, she’d told him all about her little crush on Seamus Dumar. Suddenly his seeming outrage was put in a whole new context. Was it possible he’d been jealous?

Andraste’s flaming pyre. That night in the clinic, when she’d thought he might kiss her--he _had_ been about to kiss her!

It didn’t stop there. Three years worth of awkward situations came tumbling back. Mortified, Autumn recalled a time in the Hanged Man when Anders had turned down a young man’s attentions. Despite her dread of losing Anders to someone else, she’d peppered him with questions, trying to figure out why he’d refused, until he’d finally gotten up and left the table. She hadn’t understood at the time...but he must have thought she was trying to pawn him off on someone else.

And if all that weren’t enough...she knew she hadn’t been as careful with her modesty around him as she was around other men. She must have seemed horribly brazen to him. Maker’s breath, just now she had _bathed_ Anders. He’d been completely naked--and she’d--she’d--

But he’d _told_ her he didn’t fancy women...hadn’t he? She’d asked him about Karl...

Hawke let her body slide to the floor. He hadn’t said anything about women, she realized. He’d just told her Karl had been his lover. He had said it just now--he’d been with both women and men in the past. And she was a complete and utter fool.

No. Wait a minute. She hadn’t just been making assumptions. She’d been sure. Someone had told her that Anders only fancied men. It had been three years ago, but Hawke hadn’t forgotten.

 _Isabela_ had told her that.

Hawke scrambled to her feet. A minute later she was knocking on her mother’s bedroom door.

Leandra peered out at her daughter in surprise. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes. No. I need you to do me a favor. Anders is here, sleeping in my bed. He’ll probably be out for hours, but can you keep an ear out? Check on him if you hear him calling or anything?”

“Anders...is sleeping in your bed? That rebel mage?”

“It’s not like that, Mother. He needed my help.”

Leandra frowned. “You need to be careful what signals you send to that man. He’s clearly smitten with you.”

Hawke just gaped at her mother.

“What?” Leandra said. “Surely you can see that for yourself?”

Hawke groaned. “I need to go out. I’ll be back soon.”

\-----

Isabela had thought it was going to be a boring night, but that was before Hawke stormed through the doors of the tavern, eyes blazing. She came straight up to where Isabela was standing and slammed a hand down on the bar.

“Anders does _not_ play for the other team!”

Ah! Isabela hid her grin. So Hawke had finally figured it out. Which meant that _something_ must have finally happened between Hawke and Anders to tip her off.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Isabela said innocently. “Anders doesn’t play any sports, does he?”

“Not sports,” Hawke hissed. “Romance. Anders doesn’t only fancy men.”

“Of course not,” Isabela replied in mock surprise. “Anders is an equal opportunity lover. Didn’t he tell you that?”

Hawke sputtered, and Isabela smiled to herself. Oh, this was good.

“ _You_ told me Anders was only interested in men romantically. Three years ago!”

“Really?” Isabela pretended to bite her lip. “I must have been confused.”

“Isabela!”

“Well, now, where’s the harm done? You and Anders are attached at the hip these days. You must have figured all that out ages ago.”

Hawke glared at Isabela. Then suddenly, she slumped.

“Maker,” she said, “what am I going to do now?”

“Well, if you want my suggestion on what to do, I suggest you do Anders.”

Hawke gave Isabela a dirty look. “Don’t you start with me. You’re lucky you haven’t got a greatsword through your belly.”

Isabela wasn’t worried. There was no heat in her friend’s voice. “Don’t be angry, kitten. You used to get so nervous around Anders. Bethany and I just wanted you to be able to relax around him. So he could get to know how amazing you really are.”

Hawke gaped at Isabela. “Bethany was in on this?”

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

Hawke put her head in her hands. “I almost wish I still didn’t know. I--I don’t even know how I’m supposed to act around him anymore. What if I say the wrong thing, or--”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry on that front,” Isabela interrupted. “Anders has been in love with you for years.”

Hawke stared. “My mother just said the same thing. Am I the only person who hasn’t seen it?”

“Yes,” Isabela said with certainty.

“But what if I say something stupid?” Hawke’s forehead was creased adorably. “It was one thing when I thought he wasn’t interested, but now...do you know how bad I am with men?”

“Hawke,” Isabela reminded her, “he’s been your best friend for three years. How can you have trouble talking to him now?”

“You must never have seen me try to flirt. I’m terrible. I sound like I ought to be standing under a red lantern.”

“Then that’s just about perfect,” Isabela said. “The man’s been holding out for long enough. Go ahead and throw yourself at him. If that doesn’t snap his control, I don’t know what will.”

Hawke glanced nervously at the door. “He’s at my house right now. He’s sleeping in my bed.”

Isabela threw up her hands. “And you _left_ him there?”

Hawke frowned.

“Okay.” Isabela rubbed her forehead. “Clearly, this is going to take more work than I anticipated.”

Hawke sighed. “If only Bethany were here. She was always so good about this sort of thing.”

Isabela fought a sudden wave of bitterness. Hawke was right. Bethany should be here, and her absence was proof that the only justice in this world was living in Anders’s head.

Well, Bethany wasn’t here, but Isabela was. Helping out her sister was the least the pirate could do for Bethany. She wasn’t as good as the mage at this kind of thing, but...she would do her best.

“You’ve got me,” Isabela offered.

Hawke chewed on her bottom lip. “So what do you think I should do?”

“Go home, Hawke. Go home and wake Anders up.”

“Wake him up?”

“As creatively as possible.”

Hawke blushed scarlet. “I couldn’t do that. What if he...pushed me away?”

“Trust me. He won’t push you away. When he wakes up to find you in bed with him, he’s going to think all his name days have come at once.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Because I’ve been watching the two of you pine after each other for three years now. Enough is enough. Give the poor man a break. Give yourself a break. The two of you deserve a bit of happiness.”

“But...what will I say? What will I do?”

Isabela smiled inwardly. In the last three years they’d faced all kinds of enemies, but Hawke had never looked as terrified as she did now.

She contemplated several descriptive suggestions before deciding that in this case, simplest would be best. “It doesn’t matter, love. There’s not a wrong way to do this. If you’re really not sure, you can’t go wrong with a kiss.” She raised her eyebrows. “And if you’re feeling feisty, you can get creative about where to plant it.”

Hawke reached out and snagged the drink from Isabela’s hands, downing the entire thing.

“I’m going to regret this,” she muttered.

“No, you’re not,” Isabela said confidently.

\-----

Hawke hesitated outside her bedroom door.

 _Just do it_ , she told herself. _Just like Isabela said. Just go in there...climb into bed with him...kiss him...._

Her pulse was hammering.

She tried to picture it: pressing her body up next to him as he slept, touching his lips with her own....

But what if Isabela was wrong and he didn’t want her? She didn’t want to imagine it, but she couldn’t help it. In her mind’s eye, she saw Anders recoiling from her touch, his brown eyes staring at her in disgust....

 _He won’t do that. Everyone’s sure he’s in love with you. He’s not going to reject you._

 _What if everyone’s wrong?_

Hawke remembered the way he looked at her from the bathtub earlier, the way his eyes smoldered as she crossed the room to him, and thought that maybe...maybe they weren’t wrong.

She opened the door as quietly as possible.

Anders lay on the bed, face up, his limbs sticking out in all directions, the covers half-kicked off his body. His mouth was open, and he was snoring lightly.

Hawke’s lip quirked up in an involuntary smile. He looked...adorable.

She didn’t have to start anything. She could just climb into bed and cuddle up next to him. It would be so nice just to sleep with him....

No. She realized now that she just couldn’t do it. What if she disturbed him? He needed sleep so badly. She couldn’t risk interrupting that.

She would go sleep on the library sofa. He’d be there in the morning, and then...they would talk.

\-----

When Hawke awoke, light was streaming in through the library windows. The angle of the sun was far too high for early morning. Hawke blinked sleepily. The events of the night before came rushing back to her, and she sat up.

Anders.

Hawke leapt to her feet and rushed out of the room.

At her bedroom door she stopped, breathless. Slowly, she raised a hand and knocked softly.

“Anders?” she said quietly, and opened the door.

The room was empty. The bed had been made up neatly, and a folded note sat on top of it.

Hawke picked up the note and read.

 

Dear Autumn,

I can’t thank you enough for your kindness last night. I apologize for the state I was in. I never meant to be a burden to you. You are a far better friend than I deserve.

The clinic needs me this morning; I’ve neglected it for too long. Please forgive me for not saying goodbye. I didn’t want to wake you. I am sure I will see you again soon.

Yours,  
Anders

 

Hawke sat down on the bed.

It didn’t mean anything, she told herself. She hadn’t missed her chance. Anders just had to leave.

She could go by his clinic today, she decided. It was only polite that she do that anyway, to make sure he was all right. And if something should happen...

She was supposed to meet Varric, Merrill, and Isabela and go speak to the viscount. In...half an hour, she realized, glancing at the clock. When they were done, well, she would just stop by Darktown and pay her favorite healer a little visit.

\-----

Isabela, Varric, and Merrill had been waiting outside the Viscount’s Keep for ten minutes. Isabela thought that was a good sign.

When Hawke finally came running up, her hair was mussed and she was out of breath. That was also a good sign.

But then she looked at Hawke’s face.

“Shit,” Isabela said. “You didn’t do it.”

Hawke’s mouth fell open. “How do you know?”

“Because, sweet thing,” Isabela said with a sigh, “if you’d done it, you’d be smiling.”


	15. Chapter 15

When their business was concluded and they stood outside the keep, Hawke turned to her friends. “I’ve got some things to take care of,” she said. “I’m sure you three are busy and everything. I don’t want to keep you.”

Varric frowned at her. “Don’t you want us to come along? You got us all out here.”

“No, that’s quite all right. I...can take care of this by myself.”

“You’re going to Darktown, aren’t you?” Isabela said with a grin.

“I...yes, as it happens, I did plan to...”

“Well, that’s all right,” the pirate said cheerily. “We’ll come with you.”

Varric looked back and forth between the two of them, an eyebrow raised.

“What’s happening in Darktown?” Merrill asked. “Is it something important?”

“Shh, Daisy,” Varric hushed her.

“That’s all right,” Hawke insisted, feeling her cheeks get warm. “I can manage on my own.”

“Oh, we don’t mind,” Isabela said. “We’d _love_ to come.”

Hawke glared at Isabela. “Fine,” she retorted, “but you’re waiting outside.”

\-----

It was a good thing the clinic was slow today, because Anders’s mind was only half on his work.

He hadn’t wanted to leave Hawke’s mansion that morning. It was like walking out of a dream. Waking up to the comfort and luxury of Hawke’s bed, Anders wasn’t completely sure he’d actually left the Fade. When he’d convinced himself that he was truly awake, he’d gotten dressed and gone in search of Hawke.

She’d been sleeping on the library sofa, her legs curled up underneath her. In sleep, she looked almost childlike–which was not a word he would have ever used to describe Hawke. Slumber had smoothed all the little lines of worry or stress, and she looked peaceful. The selfish part of him wanted to wake her up so he could talk with her before he left, but he knew he couldn’t. He’d taken advantage of her kindness too much already.

So he’d gone back to her room, taken a piece of stationary from her desk, and written her a note explaining where he’d gone. He’d crumpled up three versions before coming up with one he wasn’t embarrassed to leave. It was too easy to gush over what Autumn had done for him.

Anders ran a hand down his face. He’d messed up. Royally. He should never have let last night happen.

He couldn’t stop replaying it in his mind--the tender, caring way Autumn had tended to him, the feel of her gentle hands on his skin, the heat of her gaze....

He loved her so much it ached.

Nothing had changed. He was still an abomination, still a fugitive apostate. He would put her in danger. He couldn’t offer her what she deserved.

But his willpower had run out. The last of it had melted away at the touch of her kindness, and he had nothing left to resist her with.

Someone thrust a sandwich and a large flask into his hands. He looked up at his assistant’s face.

“Eat some lunch,” the man said. “You need to take care of yourself. We need you here.”

His assistant had never been quite so forceful about Anders’s health before. The mage nodded, feeling guilty.

The man walked away to check on a patient.

Anders opened the flask and sniffed. Milk. Maybe he would put some out for the cats.

\-----

Hawke hesitated in the doorway, searching for Anders. She spotted him kneeling with his back to her.

She was nervous. Maker knew how nervous she was. But when she saw him, she suddenly knew that she could do this. Isabela was right: Anders had been her best friend for the last three years. She knew how to talk to him. She had no reason to be afraid.

With one final glance over her shoulder to make sure that her unwelcome entourage was staying put, Hawke stepped into the clinic and approached the man she loved.

Nothing had changed...and yet, everything had. And things couldn’t continue on the way they were. Not anymore.

\-----

Anders heard Hawke approaching. Somehow he knew it was her without even looking. Magic, maybe. His heart started pounding.

If she just didn’t flirt with him...if she just let it pass...maybe, maybe he could hold on to some semblance of restraint. If she’d just let it go...

“What are you doing?”

He took a breath and forced some normalcy into his voice. “Putting out milk,” he said, turning around. “I miss having a cat around. But I think the refugees have scared them all off. Or maybe eaten them.” Andraste’s knickers, what was he talking about?

He scrambled for a different topic. “You know, I’ve been meaning to thank you...”

No, not that. He couldn’t talk about last night. If he did, he would grab her and just start kissing her right here in the middle of the clinic.

The mages. He could talk about that. “You don’t need to stick your neck out for the mages here, but you have,” he said, almost without missing a beat. “You let those apostates from Starkhaven start over. Maybe they can be an example for the world.”

And it was true. She had no idea how much her support for his cause meant to him. She was like a beacon of light, guiding him. He couldn’t trust his own mind, not with Justice’s influence poisoning it, but if Autumn supported him...he knew he had to be on the right track.

Of course, he couldn’t expect anything else. She’d always been devoted to Bethany, and her father had been a mage as well. No doubt she felt she owed it to them to make the world a little safer for all mages, even if neither of them were in danger from the templars anymore.

Autumn’s expression darkened a bit. She met Anders’s eyes with a hint of sadness. “It would kill me to see the templars lock you up,” she said softly.

He looked into her eyes, and he got it.

She was saying she did it for him. Not for Bethany, and not for the ideal of mage freedom–though he knew that both were important to her. But her greatest reason for fighting now...was Anders himself.

So many times, he’d wished that Autumn could love him as much as she loved her family, could be as devoted to him as she was to them. As much as he’d wanted it, he’d never really believed it was possible.

He was wrong. She did care that much about him. She was fighting to protect _him_.

He was lost. Maker help them both.

He tried to give her one last chance to refuse him, one last chance to get away. “I’ve tried to hold back,” he practically choked. “You saw what I almost did to that girl. You’ve seen what I am. But I’m still a man. You can’t...tease me like this and expect me to resist forever.”

Autumn sighed. She seemed to be looking for the right thing to say.

Then she raised an eyebrow in an overly seductive manner. “I don’t want you to resist,” she purred.

At those words, Anders’s resolve snapped. He had no more control.

Without planning to, without thinking at all, his arms were around her. His fingers tangled in her hair. His mouth descended on hers.

Her lips were soft and warm. Anders traced their shape with his tongue, then sucked gently on her bottom lip.

Her lips parted in a small gasp of surprise.

Pleasure curled in Anders’s stomach. He nibbled her bottom lip lightly with his teeth as he’d wanted to for so long and was rewarded with a soft moan.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He drank from her lips again and again, and rejoiced when she responded. Her arms came up around his waist, pulling him closer, pressing her body against his. He couldn’t get close enough.

He never wanted to stop. This was everything he’d ever dreamed it would be, only he never could have dreamed this. She was so warm and pliant in his arms...

Dimly, he remembered where they were. He needed to stop this, now, before he lost all control and ended up making love to her right there in the middle of his clinic.

He pulled back, just a bit, his lips still hovering over hers. He wanted to claim them again with every particle of his being. His eyes opened just enough to see that her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her breath coming quickly. Sweet Andraste.

He stepped back before he could do anything else.

\-----

Anders kissed her like he was suffocating and she was his air supply. Autumn could only gasp as he ravaged her lips again and again. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her, and all she could think was, _at last._

She couldn’t believe this was finally happening. For so many years she’d longed for him and believed she could never touch him this way. Now, all those years fell to dust. There was only this, only Anders and the delicious onslaught of sensation that she was helpless to resist.

Too soon, he broke the kiss. Autumn was sure she made some involuntary noise of protest and tried to capture his lips again, but he stepped back. She looked into his eyes and thought they looked rather wild.

“This will be a disaster,” Anders breathed. “But I can’t live without it. We could die tomorrow. I don’t want it to be before I tell you how I feel.”

It took her a few tries to find her voice, and when she did, it was husky. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” she said, and it was true. It had always been Anders for her. She needed him to know that.

Anders’s face took on a desperate edge, and his words came tumbling out. “I thought with Justice...this part of me was over. I can’t give you a normal life. If you’re with me, we’ll be hunted, hated. The whole world will be against us.”

She opened her mouth to tell him that it didn’t matter. She was never going to have a normal life, and even if she was, he was worth any sacrifice to her. But he didn’t give her the chance, going on without a pause.

“If your door is open tonight, I will come to you,” he said. There was a hardness in his eyes that she didn’t quite understand. “If not, I’ll know you took my warning at last.”

He turned and walked away from her quickly.

Hawke’s heart was pounding so loudly she felt sure all of Darktown could hear it. She turned to see nearly the whole clinic staring at her, and felt her face grow even hotter than it already was.

She got out of there in a rush.

\-----

Isabela was not known for her patience. How long was Hawke going to take in there? If things were going well, she could be in there for quite a while. The pirate tapped her foot and contemplated breaking Hawke’s order and sneaking into the clinic to spy on them.

Then Hawke reappeared. She had a goofy half-smile on her face, and her lips were slightly redder than usual.

Isabela grinned.

Hawke caught sight of the three of them standing there, and her face twisted into a deliberate scowl. She started forward.

“You did it!” Isabela exclaimed.

“Rivaini,” Varric said with a sly grin, “I do believe you’re right.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hawke grumbled. “I need to get home now.”

“Not without some details!” insisted Isabela. “Did Anders start it, or did you?”

“Inquiring minds want to know,” Varric said.

“What did Anders and Hawke do?” Merrill piped up.

Isabela put an arm around Hawke’s shoulder. “Merrill, take a good look. This is the look of a woman who’s been kissed within an inch of her life.”

Merrill’s eyes widened. “Really? I wouldn’t have thought she’d be so–frowny.”

“Oh, for–” Hawke began.

“The frown is just for my benefit, kitten. On the inside, she’s skipping.”

“All right, then,” Hawke said loudly. “If you’ve all had enough, I’ve got to get home.”

“But you haven’t told us anything,” Isabela complained. “What did you say to him? Did you use one of your ridiculously forward lines?”

“Isabela!”

“Come now, Hawke,” Varric said. “The more detail you give us, the less I have to make up.”

“You–you’re not going to put this in your _story_?”

“Of course I am. The tragic, doomed romance is practically a necessity in these tales.”

“What– _tragic_?”

“Did he use his tongue?” Merrill asked suddenly.

Hawke stared at the elf.

“This is Anders we’re talking about,” Isabela said. “Of course he used his tongue.”

“That’s it,” Hawke said. “I’m out of here. I have to go home and get ready–”

Isabela clapped her hands. “He’s coming back to your house tonight, isn’t he!”

“ _Goodbye_ , Isabela,” Hawke said as she stormed off.

“Oh, I _definitely_ want details tomorrow!” Isabela called after her.


	16. Chapter 16

Hawke really wished Bethany were still here.

She missed her sister every day, but right now it was especially poignant. Bethany had always been the one she ran to about men, and at this moment, she really needed Bethany’s comforting words of support. She was an absolute mess. She had taken just about every piece of clothing she owned out of her wardrobe, and it was strewn all over the room. She had no idea what she should wear, or do, or say.

If Bethany were here, she would know exactly what to tell her.

Normally she would ask her mother for help picking out an outfit, but in this situation, there was no way. She couldn’t ask her _mother_ to help her choose what to wear for sex with Anders.

Sex with Anders. _Sex_ with _Anders_. Oh, Maker. Hawke wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t dreaming.

This was what she’d wanted for so long. She’d dreamed about it over and over. So why was her stomach all churned up inside?

Hawke put her head in her hands and slumped down on the floor next to the bed. She was practically ready to tell Bodahn just to lock the door tonight so she wouldn’t have to think about this anymore.

The bell rang.

Hawke jumped in alarm. It couldn’t be Anders–could it? It was still afternoon. And she hadn’t expected he would ring the bell–he’d specifically said to leave the door open...

She heard Bodahn calling, “My lady, please, let me tell Mistress Hawke that you’re here!”

Isabela’s voice floated up, getting louder. “I’m no lady, Bodahn. And don’t worry. I’ll just poke my head in and make sure Hawke is all right.”

Isabela barged into the room.

Hawke scrambled to her feet. “Isabela!” she exclaimed, flushing with embarrassment at being caught in this state.

The pirate stopped, taking in the condition of the room, the clothing spread out over every surface, and Hawke herself.

“This is what I was afraid of,” Isabela sighed.

Bodahn stumbled in a few moments later. “I’m so sorry, messere,” he said. “I asked her to wait–”

“It’s all right, Bodahn,” Hawke said, giving Isabela a dirty look. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

Bodahn bowed and left.

“Thank you for coming by,” Hawke said, “but I really don’t need anything.” She didn’t think she could take Isabela’s teasing on top of all the stress she was already under.

Isabela sighed again and took Hawke’s hand. “Come here,” she said and led her to the bed, sitting right on top of the clothing and pulling Hawke down next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Hawke said. “Really. I just need to be alone.”

“Hawke. Please. I’m here to help.”

Hawke opened her mouth to tell her to go away again. Then she looked at the pirate’s face. There was no humor in Isabela’s dark eyes. Only warmth and concern.

Something loosened inside Hawke. She wouldn’t have thought of Isabela as someone to confide in–but she needed to talk to someone, and here Isabela was, offering the support she so desperately craved.

Hawke put her face in her hands, and all her worries came spilling out.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said. “I should be jumping for joy, right? I’ve wanted this forever. I just can’t stop thinking–what if something goes wrong? I don’t think I could take it.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Isabela said.

“I can’t decide what to wear. What if he doesn’t like what I choose?”

“You’d look gorgeous in a burlap sack. And besides, you’ll be taking it off quick enough.”

Hawke groaned. “That’s another thing. He’s never seen me...without clothing. What if he doesn’t...what if I’m not....”

“Hawke. You’re an amazingly beautiful woman.”

“But what if he doesn’t think so?”

“He thinks so. He’s going to be absolutely mad with desire.”

Hawke’s voice dropped to a whisper, and she revealed her greatest fear. “I’ve hardly ever...done this. What if I–what if I do something wrong?”

Isabela put an arm around Hawke and repeated her words from yesterday. “There’s not a wrong way to do it, love.”

“But Anders...he’s had so many lovers. He’s going to think I’m so boring.”

“Listen to me. You know how many partners I’ve had, don’t you? Do you think none of them were virgins?” For the briefest of seconds, Hawke could swear some deeper emotion crossed Isabela’s face, but it was gone before she could be sure. “Sometimes inexperience is its own charm.”

Hawke slumped, and Isabela put her other arm around her, pulling the other woman in for a hug. “Every time you take a new lover,” she said, “you have to start all over, learning what that person does, what they like. The only thing that makes this different is that Anders is already in love with you. So it will be more special than anyone else he’s been with. Trust me.”

Hawke pressed her face against Isabela’s shoulder. “You really think he loves me?”

“Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Hawke let herself relax in the pirate’s arms. “Since when did you get so comforting?”

Isabela kissed the top of Hawke’s head and sighed dramatically. “Yes, well, don’t spread it around.”

The pirate disentangled herself from the hug and stood up. With her hands on her hips, she began surveying the clothing options spread around the room.

“I was thinking about the purple dress,” Hawke said. “My mother likes me to wear that one when we have company for tea–”

Isabela shook her head. “Too formal,” she said. “You know Anders is going to show up in that ratty old coat with the feathers.”

Hawke bit her lip. “Then maybe a tunic and trousers? I have that blue tunic with the embroidery–”

“No...” Isabela said. “It’s nice, but it’s not...quite...right.”

Isabela flung open Hawke’s wardrobe and pulled out one of the few things still on a hanger, a little brown dress. “Here it is,” she said triumphantly.

Hawke wrinkled her nose. “That? It’s...ugly.”

“It’s perfect.”

“It’s brown. It covers me up to here.”

“It’s short,” Isabela said. “It shows off your legs. You have great legs, Hawke.”

Hawke stood and took the hanger from Isabela’s fingers. “But–”

“Do you remember that housewarming party you threw when you first bought the mansion? The one where you got drunk and perched yourself in Anders’s lap for the better part of the evening?”

Hawke covered her mouth. “Oh, Maker,” she said, “I’d forgotten about that one.”

“Well,” Isabela said, “you were wearing this same dress, and before you got so drunk that you decided Anders’s lap was the best seat in the house, you were flouncing around, showing off your legs to great advantage.”

“I _don’t_ flounce,” Hawke said darkly.

“I happened to be watching Anders,” Isabela continued, ignoring her. “And he couldn’t tear his eyes away. That boy has definitely got a thing for your legs, Hawke.”

Hawke frowned. “You really think...?”

Isabela took the dress back and held it up to Hawke. “Oh, yes,” she said, thrusting it back into her hand. “This is the one.”

\-----

Anders splashed water on his face, looked in his tiny mirror, and wondered when he’d gotten so old.

He knew he wasn’t anything special to look at. He used to be meticulous about his appearance, but now he was rough and unpolished: hair hacked off above the shoulders, unshaven, clothes little more than tattered rags.

He thought about shaving, and realized he didn’t have a sharp razor. Well. Lucky Hawke.

This _was_ going to be a disaster.

Surprisingly, given the number of sexual partners he’d had, preparing for a...date...like this was a strange experience for him. In the Circle, you didn’t plan. If you found yourself unwatched by templars, you seized the moment. During his escape attempts, he’d occasionally met a friendly stranger willing to help him who was interested in...more. And then there were the whores, though that hadn’t been–well. He’d done it.

He’d had a bit more freedom in the Wardens, before Raven left, anyway, and there had been one planned meeting then...he couldn’t call it a date, exactly...but it was very different getting ready in the Warden barracks with Oghren making obscene jokes and Nathaniel watching you broodily. Back then, he’d brushed out all his long hair and picked his flashiest and most impressive robes. Now he was scrabbling just to make himself presentable.

Perhaps the biggest difference was the one he was trying to avoid thinking about–that none of the others had meant to him anywhere near what Autumn did.

There had been no way to have this back then. Not with templars watching your every move, just waiting for you to form an attachment so they could take it away from you. Not while running for your life, unable to spend more than a night in one place for fear of being captured. Not when sworn to an order as strict as the Wardens, expected to spend your life in vigilance for a threat that wouldn’t return for centuries. He couldn’t have had this, so he pretended he didn’t want it, that he preferred promiscuity to the burden of _commitment_. He lied to everyone, especially himself. If he couldn’t have anything of substance, well, then he would have substantial frivolity.

It had never made him happy, though. No matter how much he pretended or how hard he lied, he could never silence the part of himself that wanted something more. He wanted to love someone...and have them love him back.

Too long. He’d been fighting it for too long. And by Andraste’s pyre, he wasn’t going to fight anymore.

“Fancy meeting you here, Blondie.”

Anders spun around. Varric was standing in the doorway to the back room.

“Funny,” Anders said. “I could have sworn I locked up the clinic.”

“Oh, yeah,” Varric said. “You did.”

Of course. Anders gestured to one of his wooden chairs. “Please, come in.”

“Nah,” Varric said, “I’m not going to keep you. I’m just here to ask you about Hawke.”

Anders stilled.

“You love her?” the dwarf asked.

 _I love her_ , Anders thought, but he couldn’t say the words. No matter how many times he’d thought them in the privacy of his own mind (what little privacy _that_ afforded), it was real now. It was happening. If he said the words out loud, he had the horrible, irrational feeling that it would be taken away from him.

“She’s everything to me,” he said instead. “I’d burn the city to the ground to protect her.”

Varric rolled his eyes. “No need to get all dramatic. I’ll take that as a yes.”

“This is the part where you threaten to disembowel me if I hurt her, I take it?”

“No,” Varric said dismissively. “That’s not really my style. A simple crossbow bolt in the back is all it takes.”

“I’ll...keep that in mind.”

Varric took pity on him and smiled. “She adores you, you know.”

Anders heart thumped. “Does she?”

“Oh, yeah. Since the first time she laid eyes on you in this rathole of a clinic, I’d wager.”

Anders didn’t know what to say.

Varric waved half-heartedly at him. “Make her happy, Blondie.”

He turned and walked out the door.

“I will,” Anders said to the empty room. “For as long as I can.”

\-----

Hawke looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She’d never realized it before, but this dress did show off her legs.

She’d followed Isabela’s instructions to the letter, soaking in a hot bubble bath, then dabbing perfume just where she’d said: a drop on each wrist, behind her ears, on each ankle, between her breasts, and–well, another spot. At the pirate’s suggestion, she’d left off her smalls entirely, and she felt incredibly brazen.

Pampering herself had been a good idea. It had calmed her down, and a mellow, peaceful feeling enveloped her, laced with anticipation. Unfortunately, the only thing she could do now was...wait.

He wouldn’t change his mind, would he? He would definitely come. Hawke flashed back to that kiss in the clinic, the desperate way he’d clung to her as he plundered her mouth.

If he didn’t come, she would murder him.

Unsure what else to do, Hawke wandered over by the fireplace. The flames were beautiful, dancing silently, yet burning brightly. The fire looked to her just the way she felt inside.

She heard a noise and looked up. Anders was walking through her bedroom door.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit sex.

Their second kiss was nothing like their first.

The first kiss had been explosive, all fire and heat and uncontained passion. Anders had attacked her with three years worth of pent-up desire. This time, Anders meant to do things right. He cupped her cheek in his hand, letting out a wisp of healing energy, just enough to send a pleasant warmth into her body.

When he lowered his head to hers, it was tentative. His lips moved with hers slowly, gently.

There was no less heat in this kiss, but instead of a raging inferno, this was a slow burn. It started deep in the pit of Anders’s stomach and spread throughout his body. He was aware of every little movement she made, every soft gasp and gentle sigh.

Anders fought the urge to gather her up in his arms right then and there. There would be time. There would be time. He intended to make this last.

Autumn shivered under the caress of his lips, testing his control. He pulled back, just enough to look at her heartbreakingly lovely face. She opened her eyes and watched him with a heavy-lidded gaze that did nothing to hide her desire.

Anders silently thanked the Maker for this blessing.

Autumn slipped her fingers through his and stepped back, leading him to the bed. Wordlessly, Anders followed.

\-----

Hawke hoped that Anders didn’t notice the way her hand was shaking as she drew him towards the bed. She lay down, pulling Anders into her embrace.

With a moan, Anders found her lips again.

Hawke let herself be swept into the kiss. Her hand reached up to touch his shoulder, pulling him closer. Her fingers ran along the feathers of his pauldron.

He was wearing a lot of clothing. Certainly more than she was. That was hardly fair.

Autumn’s fingers moved to the clasps at the front of his coat. They grasped at the brass rings there, fumbling, as she tried to figure out how to open them without breaking the kiss.

After a few minutes of that, Anders chuckled against her mouth and pulled back. “Here,” he whispered. “I’ll show you.” He sat up so that she could see what he was doing and unclasped one of the fastenings holding his coat closed.

Autumn bemoaned the sudden loss of contact but decided it was an acceptable sacrifice for getting Anders naked. Once she saw how it was done, she reached out, pushing his hands out of the way, and unfastened the rest of the buckles, earning her another soft chuckle.

“Why do you have to wear something with so many clasps, anyway?” Hawke grumbled. “Are you trying to lock me out?”

“You don’t like my coat?” Anders raised his eyebrows. “It has feathers. It’s soft. If you wanted to rest your head on my shoulder, it would be very comfortable.”

Autumn unhooked the last of his clasps and pulled it open, sliding a hand underneath his shirt.

Anders inhaled sharply at the contact.

“I’d much rather touch your skin than your feathers,” Hawke said.

She didn’t know how she’d gotten so brazen. Isabela would probably approve, she thought absentmindedly.

Anders quickly shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall with a whump on the floor. Hawke tugged on his shirt, and together they got it off over his head.

Autumn stopped and sat back, drinking in the sight before her.

Anders reached for the laces on his breeches. When he realized Hawke was unmoving, he stopped too, watching her with something like trepidation in his amber eyes.

He was...beautiful. The very little she’d seen of him in the bath the night before did nothing to prepare her. His lean, sinewy muscle must be a result of all that staff twirling, she thought, and then blushed when the innuendo occurred to her. She took in everything, from the soft curl of blond chest hair to the unexpected smoothness of his skin, and then reached out to trace a large scar just underneath his heart.

“What kind of healer leaves a scar?” she asked. She meant to sound teasing, but her voice was unintentionally husky.

“The kind that’s not me,” Anders replied with a smile. “Sadly, I was unconscious for that one. Someone else had to heal me.”

Hawke noted the hint of nervousness in his tone and put two and two together. “Raven Surana?” she guessed.

Anders’s smile faltered, and he nodded once.

“You really cared about her, didn’t you?” She couldn’t really get over the idea that he’d fallen for women before. It was strange, but despite the jealousy that flared in her belly, she needed confirmation that this was real, that there had been others, and he wasn’t just making it up for her. Irrational, but there it was.

Anders looked down. “It wasn’t like that,” he said. “She never looked at me that way. And I always knew it.”

“But you wanted her to.”

He shrugged helplessly. “Only because I didn’t know you.”

Hawke let her hand rest on the scar. Her other hand took his and drew it to her lips. She laid a kiss on his palm.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m not jealous. Well–maybe a little jealous, but it’s okay.”

Anders looked at her in surprise, but before he could say anything, she leaned forward and kissed him again.

Their kiss became passionate very quickly. Hawke put both hands on his body and ran them up his chest, memorizing the way he felt under her touch, his chest hair curling under her fingers. Anders moaned and deepened the kiss, pulling her closer against him.

She definitely needed him naked, and the sooner the better.

Hawke managed to disentangle one arm from their embrace and reached down for the laces on his pants. Thankfully, there was nothing complicated about this piece of clothing, and one quick tug had them untied.

“So...impatient...” Anders murmured between kisses.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a while,” Hawke told him.

Still, she hesitated, while Anders’s kisses drifted to her jawline and his hands rubbed her back. What if she touched him, and he didn’t like it? What if she did something wrong?

_There’s not a wrong way to do it,_ she remembered, and gathered her courage.

Her hand slipped inside his breeches and found his cock straining against his smalls.

Anders made a sharp noise and buried his face against Hawke’s neck. “Maker...Autumn...”

She did her best to stroke him through the cotton barrier. Anders tried unsuccessfully to stifle another moan, then nipped at her neck.

“That’s it,” he said. “These are coming off.”

He fumbled with his breeches, trying to get them off while still laying kisses on Autumn’s neck. Hawke tried to help, but she had the distinct feeling that she was only making things more difficult.

Finally, Anders kicked both pants and smalls off onto the floor and tried to pull Autumn back down onto the bed.

“Wait...wait...”

Anders pulled back, looking anxious.

Hawke had been waiting three years to see this. She tried not to look as if she were ogling, but she had the feeling she failed miserably. She took in the sight of Anders, naked on her bed, and shivered.

Her eyes settled on Anders’s hard length, and she instinctively licked her lips.

Anders groaned. “Maker have mercy,” he muttered. “Autumn–”

She kissed him again, and he took over the kiss immediately. This time, she let him pull her down.

He was touching her everywhere, and she couldn’t catch her breath. His lips assailed hers again and again. One hand cupped her breast through the fabric of her dress. His thumb rubbed against her nipple, drawing a moan from her lips. His other hand massaged her thigh, then trailed upward, under her skirt.

He touched her sex, then pulled back with a cry as if he’d been burned.

Autumn looked at him dizzily, her vision hazy from lust. “What–”

“You’re not wearing smalls,” he accused.

She frowned. “I didn’t think they were a necessity.”

“You could have warned me!”

“That...would have defeated the purpose, don’t you think?”

“Right,” he growled. “That’s it.”

Her belt was off before she even realized he had touched it. Anders pulled the dress up, and with a little helpful squirming from her, he had it off in seconds, throwing it to the side.

She lay naked beneath him.

Anders let out a shaky breath.

It was uncomfortable under Anders’s intense gaze, but considering the way she’d stared at him, she supposed it was only fair. His eyes slid down her body, darkening as they did so.

Hawke bit her lip and looked away nervously. She knew she was more muscular than most women, but she thought she was still attractive. Isabela said she had all the right curves....

“Hawke,” Anders said. “Autumn.”

Reluctantly, she looked back at him. There was some strong emotion in his gaze that she couldn’t name.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he whispered.

Autumn exhaled.

Still holding himself up so that he could see her, Anders began to touch her. His hands trailed everywhere, over her stomach, across her breasts, along the curve of her hips. The contact was light, but electrifying. She felt as if Anders were everywhere.

Perhaps the most erotic thing of all was the look of barely controlled passion in his eyes as he watched her body squirm.

Hawke reached up and tugged him down on top of her, capturing his mouth. He relented with a sigh but did not stop what he was doing. One hand slid down from her belly to press against her sex.

She gasped into his mouth and pressed her hips against him.

His fingers found her center. They moved skillfully, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her. His lips broke away from hers and moved lower, grazing her neck.

She found herself thrusting against his hand.

She’d never experienced anything like this. Her previous episodes with Lothering farm boys, with their impatient, fumbling hands, had not prepared her. This was so much better than that, so much better than even her own fingers.

Anders rubbed her pearl furiously. Her hands clutched at his chest, trying to pull him even closer.

Her legs began to tremble. She wasn’t going to last long at all.

Just as she was ready to explode, Anders pulled his hand away.

“Anders!” Hawke gasped. “What...?”

Anders pressed his lips against her collarbone. “It’s too soon,” he murmured. “Too fast. I don’t want this to be over yet.”

“It’s not too fast!” Hawke scrabbled at his arms in desperation. “I’ve been waiting three years!”

Anders chuckled, but did nothing to relieve her tension. Instead, he trailed kisses slowly lower, down her neck, his lips soft and teasing against her skin. His mouth glided down to her breast.

He cupped her breast, circling her areola with his tongue before sucking the whole thing into his mouth with a moan. His hand teased at her other peak, drawing a shudder from her body.

Hawke’s hips ground helplessly against him, but he ignored them, moving his mouth to the other breast. He was less gentle now, sucking hard at her nipple and nibbling it lightly with his teeth, causing Autumn to writhe and cry out.

He stopped abruptly, his face creased with the effort of restraint, his breathing heavy.

“Anders,” Hawke breathed, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Please.”

It occurred to her that she ought to take advantage of his distraction to regain control. With her hands in his hair, she could pull him back up until his shaft was pressed against her core. She could claim his lips again, reaching down with one hand to guide him inside her....

But the moment passed, and she did nothing, paralyzed by his attentions.

Anders continued his descent. His tongue slid languidly down her stomach, pausing to dip into her navel. She would not have thought that could be erotic, but when his tongue flickered there lightly, she drew in a breath. He continued lower, lower, hesitating between her legs.

“Anders...”

He licked her, a long, slow swipe of his tongue. Autumn’s hips bucked in sheer pleasure.

“Please...”

But Anders refused to hurry, subjecting her to one slow stroke after another. Autumn struggled against him, trying vainly to get him to speed up. He seemed not to notice, continuing to lap leisurely at her nub as her body trembled helplessly beneath him.

Even against this slow torture, she couldn’t hold out. Autumn felt her release building. Her fingers tightened in his hair. She could feel the pleasure pulsing throughout her entire being, until even her toes were tingling. Her body tensed and tightened...

Anders turned his head to the side, laying a kiss on her thigh.

“No!” Hawke gasped. “Anders!”

He nuzzled her leg lightly.

Hawke tugged on his hair, forcing him to look up at her.

“ _Why_?” she demanded

He nibbled at her inner thigh. His eyes flickered up to hers, and he murmured against her skin, “I’m not ready for this to be over.”

She might have hit him right then if not for the look in his eyes. It was...vulnerable.

She realized in that moment that he was just as uncertain as she was. Just as scared of what was between them...and what it would mean.

Her heart melted.

“Listen to me,” she said insistently. “Listen to me. Nothing is over. This is just the beginning.”

Anders’s eyes met hers, and understanding flashed between them. Understanding of how...momentous this was, and special, and– _right_.

Anders exhaled, and his body slumped. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She tried to sit up so she could kiss him, and Anders met her halfway, colliding in a kiss that was all lips and tongues and passion. Hawke could taste herself on him and found it surprisingly sexy.

Autumn attempted to pull him back down on top of her. She was ready. She wanted him inside of her and she wanted it now.

But Anders resisted.

“Anders...” This time it was a warning. Hawke didn’t have much patience left.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Anders murmured. “I have something else in mind.”

He lowered his head once again between her thighs.

This time there was no teasing. He attacked her center with all the suppressed passion of the last three years. His tongue danced feverishly across her pearl.

Hawke’s back arched, hips lifting off the bed. Her hands clutched frantically at the sheets. A bone-tingling pleasure swept over her, starting at her center and spreading out through her limbs, until there was nothing but Anders and the delicious feel of his tongue against her exploding nerves.

With a moan, Anders sucked her nub into his mouth and flicked the tip with his tongue.

Hawke shattered into a million pieces.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit sex.

Anders ground his hips into the bed. He was ready to explode from need for Autumn.

He hadn’t meant to tease her. He had no other thoughts in his mind but to bring her pleasure. But when he saw her body, writhing and shuddering under his ministrations, he just couldn’t let it end. It was the most stunning sight he could ever have imagined.

Until a moment later, when she finally came, shrieking his name in ecstasy.

He needed her desperately. He was on fire with need.

Hawke grabbed Anders’s hair and yanked upward. She was strong. If she wanted him up, he was coming up. Not that he would have fought.

Anders sank into her arms and let Autumn draw him into a kiss. His cock pressed against her leg. His tongue tangled with hers.

Autumn’s hand slid down between their bodies, brushing against his hard length, then grasping it firmly.

Anders let out an involuntary sound.

“Maker’s breath,” Autumn breathed. She gave him a push, rolling him over on his back so she could look at him. “Has it gotten even bigger than before?”

An instant later, she seemed to realize what she’d said. Mortification swept over her features.

Anders groaned. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? That’s what this is, an elaborate murder attempt.”

Autumn nipped at his ear. “Don’t be silly,” she said practically. “If you were dead, who would heal me?”

“Oh, aren’t you romantic–”

Autumn laughed giddily and put a finger over his lips. “No more talking,” she said with mock strictness. “It’s my turn now.”

Obediently, Anders shut his mouth.

With her hand still wrapped around his shaft, Autumn returned her attention to Anders’s ear. She lay next to him, her naked body pressed tightly against his side, and sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

Anders drew in a breath.

Hawke continued to nibble. “Your ears are nice,” she said.

“My...ears?”

“Mmm. They’re like...shells.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re intoxicated,” Anders said.

Hawke trailed a hand over his chest. “I...don’t think you’re wrong,” she murmured.

She began to wriggle her way down his body, planting little kisses as she went.

Anders tried very hard to control his breathing.

When her lips pressed against his chest, Anders tried to pull her back up. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.

“Someone once told me that if a man is a decent sort, he’ll always make sure his partner is enjoying it.” She laid another kiss on his chest. “If a woman is a decent sort, shouldn’t she do the same?”

“I _am_ enjoying it,” Anders insisted, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice.

“Then I won’t stop,” Autumn said reasonably.

Anders couldn’t find the words to protest.

Experimentally, Autumn lowered her head to his nipple and flicked it with her tongue.

Anders jerked underneath her, his cock thrusting into her hand.

“Oh,” Autumn breathed. She glanced up at his face and suddenly blushed shyly, turning her face away. “I didn’t know if....”

“You _are_ trying to kill me,” Anders groaned.

She tried again, raking his nipple with her teeth and then sucking it into her mouth, just as he had done to her, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

“Maker,” Anders said, shuddering. “Autumn–”

He wanted to plead with her, to tell her that he couldn’t take any more. But after all he had done to her, all the torture he had put her through...what could he possibly say?

She seemed to understand without his words. “Right,” she said. “No more teasing.”

But instead of coming up to him, she wriggled further down.

“Wait,” Anders protested. “No...”

Autumn closed her lips over his shaft.

Anders fought hard to keep his hips from jerking upwards. Autumn’s mouth slid slowly down his length, and Anders couldn’t hold back a whimper.

Anders felt like he was coming apart. He could tell that she hadn’t done this often–or possibly ever. It didn’t matter. No, that wasn’t true. It was even more exciting to think that he might be the first person she’d ever done this for. He’d never cared before how much experience a partner had, but with Autumn, her inexperience was a part of who she was. It reminded him of how lucky he was to be here with her, so close to the woman he cherished.

“Autumn,” he said. “Wait.”

He wanted to be inside her. He had wanted it for years. True, he had fantasized about all the other things they could do with each other, but for their first time, here and now, he needed that intimacy. He needed to wrap his arms around her and feel her body pressed against his as he came inside her. He needed her, and he wasn’t willing to settle for anything less.

“ _Autumn_ ,” he repeated.

Autumn looked up at him and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to be inside you,” he said throatily. “Please, Autumn.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

Autumn bit her lip.

“Don’t make me drag you up here,” he threatened.

Hawke laughed at that, and rightly so. There was no question who would win in a battle of strength.

“Maybe in a minute,” she said, and with a mischievous glint in her eye, she returned to her task.

_Oh, Maker._ Grey Warden stamina would only take him so far. Anders writhed on the bed and tried to think of some way to distract her. He hadn’t waited these last three years to spend himself in her mouth.

He had an idea.

Anders sat up, giving himself a better position to touch Autumn’s body. His hand slipped down between her legs, and he let out just a breath of magic. It was a modified rejuvenation spell, designed to bring a man back to arousal, but it would work just as well on a woman.

The stimulating, tingling sensation was just a pleasant side effect.

Hawke cried out, and her entire body went rigid. Her lips slipped off his erection. She looked up at him with wild eyes.

He might have used a _tad_ too much magic.

“Oh, you _cheat_ ,” she accused, before pushing him down on the bed and climbing on top of him.

“I never said I played fair,” Anders answered between kisses.

This was so much better. Anders put his hands everywhere, enjoying the feel of her body above him. Hawke kissed him with unrestrained passion and positioned herself so that his shaft was right at her entrance.

_Maker, yes._

She stopped, lifting her head to look at him.

Anders started to say something light and teasing, but he was silenced by the look on Autumn’s face. It was–frightened. There was no other word for it.

Panic took hold in his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you–do you want to stop?”

“Maker, no,” she whispered. “It’s just...I’ve wanted this for so long....”

He understood. That kind of need _was_ frightening. Terrifying. It stripped away your defenses and laid your heart bare at another’s mercy.

“I know,” Anders murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and letting his palm rest against her cheek. “Believe me, I know.”

Their eyes met, and something warm and sweet and wonderful passed between them, as though they were looking into each other’s souls. Anders was once again overwhelmed by the feeling that he would always be safe in her care.

Autumn lowered herself onto him.

Anders gasped. The sensation of being buried in her warm sheath was better than anything he could have ever imagined. For a moment, they were still, just reveling in the fact that they were finally here, together, as they should be, held fast in each other’s arms.

And then Hawke began to move.

The world disintegrated around him. Anders was aware of nothing at all except Autumn, the way her exquisite body trembled above him and the intense pleasure sweeping over him. His hand reached down between them to touch her, drawing the most beautiful sounds from her throat and a fresh urgency to her movements. Anders met her thrusts with his own and tried desperately to hold on for as long as he could.

Autumn tensed and tightened around him. “I love you, Anders,” she whispered, before her body was wracked by spasms.

Anders couldn’t hold out any longer. He exploded in pure ecstasy, spilling his seed inside her.


	19. Chapter 19

They lay in bed, holding each other, Autumn still on top of Anders. Anders’s entire body was tingling with the aftereffects of their lovemaking. He trailed his fingertips slowly across her back, up and down.

Autumn lifted her head and kissed him, first on one cheek, then the other, then his forehead, his nose, and finally a light kiss on the lips. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she said.

“Mmm,” Anders said, drawing her closer.

“What was that spell? The one you used on me? It was...nice.”

“Oh, that? Just a spell to make you...aroused again.”

Autumn looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “I was already aroused again.”

“Oh,” Anders said. “That’s probably why it had such a strong effect, then.”

Hawke smacked his arm halfheartedly, which was still hard enough that Anders had to bite back a yelp or risk looking pathetic. They lapsed back into languid, blissful silence.

“Did you ever think,” Autumn said after a while, trailing her fingers through his chest hair, “when we first met, that we would end up here?”

Anders hesitated. “Did you?” he asked.

“I hoped so, but no, not really,” Autumn said. “I didn’t really believe I had a chance with you.”

“What?” Anders said, shocked. “How could you think that?”

Hawke hid her face, burying it against his neck. “I’m...really bad with men,” she said. “And you didn’t seem to like me very much.”

Anders was horrified. “You thought I didn’t like you?”

“The first time we met? When you didn’t want to give me your maps? No, you didn’t seem very impressed with me.”

“That’s not true.” Anders used his fingers to lift her chin so she was looking at him. “I thought you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. If I was...cross, it was because I was cursing the Maker for sending you to me _now_ , after it was too late.”

“Too late?”

Anders ignored her question. “I told myself I could resist you. You were just a pretty face. You would help me free Karl, I would give you the maps, and that would be it. And then, when I lost control in front of you, and you realized...what I was, I thought for sure you would try to kill me. But you just listened and watched me with that serious face, and I couldn’t tell what you were thinking. I was desperate to know. Where you condemning me or pitying me? And then...you called me sexy.”

Autumn groaned.

“I couldn’t believe there was a woman out there who could still be interested, who could want me even with an...extra passenger in my head. And I found myself asking you to come back, when I should have been telling you to run away.”

Autumn brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. His hair tie had gotten lost at some point, though he had no idea when. “I don’t think I ever could have run away from you,” she said. “Not even back then.”

Anders looked at Autumn’s trusting face, into her big, beautiful eyes. Listening to her avow her loyalty to him, he couldn’t stop a wave of fear from washing over him. It would kill him if anything happened to her. Was he so weak that he would endanger her this way? Take from her any possibility of a normal, happy life?

She always seemed so strong, but underneath her armor, she was all warm, soft skin, just as vulnerable as anyone else. A templar sword would kill her just as surely as it would another.

“You _should_ run,” he said, though the words killed him to say. How could he possibly live without her now? “You deserve–”

“Don’t.” Autumn’s voice was sharp, and Anders stopped in mid-sentence. Her expression softened. “Don’t,” she said more softly. “Not now. Let this moment be just for us.”

He let out a breath. He already knew he could refuse her nothing, and besides, he was not strong enough to push her away any more. Not after what they’d shared tonight.

Anders brushed his lips against hers and reveled in her soft sigh of contentment.

“I can’t really believe you’re here,” Anders said. “I never knew–I could never be sure if you felt the same as I did. I thought you did at first...but then I didn’t know anymore. I just couldn’t read you at all.”

Hawke groaned and hid her face from him again.

“Autumn?” Anders asked. “Is something wrong?”

She sighed. “If I tell you why I acted so strangely, do you promise not to laugh?”

Anders couldn’t imagine anything she could say that he would find amusing. “That seems a simple enough promise.”

He wished she would look back at him, but she only buried her head more. “I thought that you weren’t interested in me,” Autumn said, “because I thought that you only fancied men.”

It took a minute for her words to sink in. “What...why would you think that?”

But even as he asked, his mind was going back to one of their earliest conversations. He remembered Autumn, standing in his clinic, suddenly nervous as she asked him about his relationship with Karl.

“Oh, Maker,” Anders said, horrified. “You asked me about Karl...and I didn’t explain....”

Hawke peeked up at him. “It’s not your fault. If you must know, it was Isabela and Bethany. They told me you weren’t interested in women.”

Anders tried to figure out why Isabela or Bethany would want to lie to Hawke about him, but he came up blank. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why would they do that?”

Autumn looked away. “They did it because I’m so bad with men,” she said. “They thought I would be myself with you if I didn’t think I had a chance.”

Anders held her a little tighter. “You’re not bad with men,” he said. “You weren’t bad with me.”

“That’s because their plan worked. I treated you differently because I thought you were a lost cause. But remember how I acted with you the first few weeks we knew each other? I blurted out some really awful pick-up lines.”

Anders shook his head slowly. “I don’t remember any awful lines.”

Autumn stopped trying to hide her face and propped herself up on her elbow so she could look at him.

“I know you didn’t forget,” she said. “You told me you were possessed, and I said how sexy the tortured look was. I told you Justice was lucky to make a deal with you because he got such a nice body.”

Anders laughed softly. “I thought that was sweet.”

She stared at him openmouthed.

“What? Does that bother you?” Anders put a hand on Autumn’s cheek. “The truth is, I thought you were perfect from the first time I met you. And I still do.”

Hawke looked at him for a moment longer. Then she lowered her head to his.

Anders didn’t think he would ever get used to kissing her, the shock of sweetness each time her lips met his. The kiss gained intensity very quickly. Anders rolled her over on her back and let his hands wander over Autumn’s body, exploring all her exquisite curves. Autumn tangled her fingers in his hair, and Anders felt his body responding.

“Maker’s breath.” Hawke broke the kiss, looking at him in amazement. “Again? So soon?”

Anders laughed lightly at the expression of awe on her face. “You didn’t think I could get you out of my system that easily, did you?”

He leaned in to kiss her again, but Hawke hesitated. Her beautiful eyes were full of emotion, her forehead creased with worry. “Is that what we’re doing?” she whispered. “Getting me out of your system?”

The question surprised Anders. He’d thought his adoration for her was obvious. But he realized that after keeping her at arm’s length for three years, it was only natural she would fear he might push her away again.

He leaned in and kissed away all the little lines of concern that marred her lovely face.

“It would be impossible,” Anders murmured. “You’re in my blood, in the marrow of my bones. If I had a million years with you, it wouldn’t be enough. I can’t give you up now. Maker help me, I know I should, but I’m just not strong enough. I can’t ever let you go again.”

He meant it perhaps a bit more literally than Hawke realized. If it were up to him, he’d never stop touching her. But then Autumn claimed his lips again and wiped all other thoughts from his mind.

Later, when they’d exhausted themselves once more, Hawke curled up against Anders’s chest and whispered sleepily, “I love you, Anders.”

 _I love you, Autumn,_ Anders thought, but the words stuck in his throat, too terrifying to say. _I love you. I love you. You mean everything to me. You’re all that is bright and good and right in this world. I love you._

Autumn’s soft breathing told him that she had fallen asleep.

\-----

Anders began drifting back to consciousness slowly. He reached out for Hawke, to pull her back into his embrace, but his questing hands found only empty sheets.

Anders’s eyes flew open, and he sat up.

She was still there, thank the Maker. Autumn was standing before the fireplace, her lips curved in a peaceful smile. The light from the fireplace enveloped her in a golden glow. Or maybe the glow was just her.

She took his breath away.

In that moment, Anders thanked the Maker again for this blessing. Autumn could have any man she wanted, and any of them could give her more than he could. That she chose to be here, with him–it was a gift, a treasure. He knew he hadn’t always been a good man, though he had tried to make up for his mistakes. All his work with the clinic, all the mages he’d saved–if he could have _this_ , even for just a moment, it was a greater reward than he ever could have hoped for.

And suddenly he realized he could say anything to her. He didn’t know what might come in the future, but they had this. They had now. And that was enough.

Anders climbed off the bed and approached Autumn. She turned to him, her beautiful eyes full of warmth.

“I love you,” Anders whispered.


End file.
